Dances with Shinobi
by Ariel D
Summary: SANDSIBS. After his harrowing experience, Gaara faces a new terror: learning the box step so he can dance with Tsunade at a celebratory ball. In the process, he learns about love. Reposted, 2008. Crack!fic with a serious subtheme and brotherly bonding.
1. Chapter 1

**Dances with Shinobi**

By Ariel-D and Darkhelmetj

_Description: SANDSIBS fic, set post-Shippuuden ep. 32. After his harrowing experience, Gaara faces another terror: having to learn the box step so he can dance with Tsunade at an official, celebratory ball in Konoha. Reposted. Humour/drama/angst/family/bromance/hurt-comfort/you-name-it._

_Disclaimer: The Naruto-verse and all its characters are copyrighted by Masashi Kishimoto and Weekly Shonen Jump. I am making no profit; this is just for fun._

_A/N: Bromance, not YAOI. Set two weeks after Gaara has been returned to life by Chiyo. We based this on the idea of a Founder's Day for each village, but we know no such day officially exists in canon (and we also don't care)._

_**Reposted from 2008.**This story was originally posted on both DA and FFdotnet, but when my Naruto muse died, I ripped it off of FFdotnet because I knew I couldn't finish it. Despite this, I got a lot of requests in the intervening years to finish the story. The fic is old now, but when my Naruto muse returned, I decided I'd finish it anyway, perhaps despite my better judgement. The fic began as a humor story that was going to include brotherly bonding under bizarre and hopefully funny circumstances. It kinda morphed into a wild collection of genres. It's also vaguely a crack!fic, especially during the first half._

_Translations (jic): "nii-san" means "older brother"; "ototo" means "younger brother"; and "jan" is the Yokohama punk accent word Kankuro throws into his sentences, much like Naruto says "dattebayo."_

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Two weeks.

For two weeks, Gaara had been trying to adjust to life without Shukaku. For two weeks, the now-esteemed Kazekage had been trying to sleep, rebuild his chakra, and catch up on backlogged paperwork. Two weeks that consisted of stress, blathering councilmen, and reports on Akatsuki's further movements. And during all this madness, Gaara had meditated, forced himself to remain stoic and impassive, and generally continued as though nothing had happened. However, deep inside he had the odd urge to ram his head through the nearest wall, and now on top of it all he was being systematically tortured.

"Look," Temari said, stalking onto the dojo's floor. "I get that you don't want to learn to dance. But this ball is to commemorate Konoha's 75th Founder's Day, and as their allies, we're expected to attend."

Gaara stood, arms crossed over his chest, in the training hall's doorway. The dojo had been added as an extension wing of the Kazekage mansion three decades earlier, but its glossy wooden floors had been kept so well-polished they gleamed as though new. Likewise, the windows on the opposing wall were dust-free. "You should have warned me sooner. You're our liaison to Konoha now, and it's unlike you to forget details, no matter how small."

Temari propped her fists on her hips. "I told you about the ball three months ago."

"I don't mean the gala itself," Gaara said, his eyes hooded. His ability to maintain a stoic mask had deteriorated hours earlier when he'd realized meditation was no longer going to work for him. He was going to have to sleep tonight. He didn't relish the idea, but given how unstable his mood already was, he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. "I mean the dancing."

Temari reached up and rubbed her temple with one hand. "Hey, I can't help it if you, as Kazekage, are expected to dance the first dance with Tsunade-hime, and frankly, I didn't know about it until just a few days ago."

Gaara didn't budge from the doorway. "Then use your newfound powers of diplomacy and fix it."

He was half-joking, but he was also half-serious and deadpan. As a result, Temari took his words literally. "I'm not the one with the political clout here." She crossed her arms as well and glared at her younger brother. "And it would certainly look bad if you refused to dance with her."

Gaara took a deep breath, trying to shake off his frustration and reminding himself that he should be mature. He was a leader — _the_ leader. Kazekage. Even if he was exhausted, it was not his place to take it out on others. At least in theory. When he finally spoke, his usual tenacity and composure fell flat on its metaphorical face. "How about you dance with her?" he asked, once again invoking a deadpan humour that disguised his deeper irritation.

"It's Kage to Kage, little bro." Temari dropped her arms suddenly, sighing. "Yeah, yeah — I know. They wouldn't have fixed it that way if one of you wasn't female, but one of you is. So get over it. You have three days to learn how to ballroom dance."

Gaara sighed as well and, after bowing himself into the dojo, joined Temari. As fatigued as he was, he knew it would be more difficult if he continued to argue with his sister than if he gave in. He stopped a few feet in front of her and glanced around the room, trying to distract himself. A few ink paintings of tsunamis, mountains, and sakura branches decorated one wall. He'd never imagined he'd be learning to dance here instead of practicing combat. "Very well." He stuck out his hands toward her, preparing himself for the upcoming torture.

"Good. Let's go." Temari grabbed one of his hands and put it on her shoulder. Then she grasped his other hand in hers and held it up at shoulder height. "Okay. Technically as the man you're supposed to lead, but I'll lead for now until you get the feel of the steps." She pulled on their suspended hands. "This hand leads." She put her hand on Gaara's waist and squeezed it. "And this hand supports."

Gaara tried to accept the instruction with poise or at least with unemotional factualism. However, his accumulated sleep-loss and inherit dislike for social events like parties won. His eyes narrowed slightly. "This is ridiculous. Whoever invented this should be —"

"Killed and their intestines hung out for vultures to eat?" Temari finished for him, grinning wickedly. "I agree, but I didn't make the rules. We're not going for anything special here, though. Just a simple four-step, also known as a box step. When we're in action, it should look like we're gliding in graceful near-circles, but for now we'll go step-by-step."

Gaara stared at his sister's shoulder for several moments, becoming uncomfortably aware of just how close they were standing. "Do you have to . . . touch me so much?" He couldn't seem to move past the sudden thought that people didn't touch him often, except for the occasional punch or kick a few shinobi had landed against his sand armour. It felt odd, almost unnatural. In his sleep-deprived state, it was making him antsy, and he never imagined that he'd miss anything about Shukaku. Suddenly, though, he keenly missed his ability to withstand sleep deprivation. "Can't we do this without standing so close?"

Temari snickered and kept her hands where they were. "Are you kidding? You'll have to hold Tsunade-hime pretty close, so you might as well get over it by holding me. This is all about touch. Men and women dance like this in order to fall in love."

Her words seemed to hang like dust motes in the air between them. Gaara considered her explanation for a moment, then blushed faintly as it sank in. Thinking about women wasn't an activity at the top of his to-do list. In fact, it was close to the bottom. Prior to his decision to become Kazekage, he'd had no use for a girlfriend or anyone else. After his decision, he'd been too busy to even give dating a thought. "Wonderful." This was a complication he didn't need. "Just show me how to do it. You're my sister. I don't want to fall in love with you anyway."

"Kami, I hope not." Temari smirked. "But do yourself a favour and don't accidentally look down when you dance with Tsunade-hime. She has a huge chest."

Gaara felt his blush deepen. "I _know._ I've noticed." He sneered as several unwanted images blossomed in his mind. "This isn't just inconvenient, it's disturbing."

However, Temari seemed distracted, as though she hadn't heard his words. She stared past Gaara's shoulder at the dojo wall, her eyes slightly glazed. "Actually, you're pretty short for a guy, and Tsunade-hime always wears high heels. You might end up face-to- . . . er, face-to-chest with her." Her voice wavered, as if she were attempting to hide laughter.

Unimpressed, Gaara wrenched his hands away from Temari and glowered at her. "That's it. I'm finished." He turned and stalked toward the door. He had better things to do than be humiliated by his sister. It wasn't as though he could avoid the event, but Temari's humour wasn't helping his discomfort at all.

His sister grabbed his elbow, pulling him to a stop. Her voice was soft and serious. "Sorry! It was just an observation. I'll find some thick-soled dress shoes for you so you'll be boosted into a safe range." She gave her brother a guilty smile.

Gaara stared at the doorway as her words echoed in his mind. For a moment, the horror refused to sink in. Then Gaara found his voice and turned to face his sister. "Are you implying the only way I can escape is to wear . . . women's heels?" Patient as he was, he had his limits, and wearing women's clothing was one of them. He felt a headache coming on.

Temari shook her head emphatically. "No, no. Many men's dress shoes already come with a thick heal or sole. That wouldn't look odd at all. Actually, you'll look quite handsome in, say, a pair of black dress boots." She winked at him and squeezed his arm lightly.

Gaara hesitated, realizing his sister was trying to help him, and stepped back into place. It was easy to forget how patient Temari always was with him. She never backed away from answering his questions or from assisting him if he needed it. Her aggressive front sharply contrasted with the sisterly personae that hid underneath. Gaara sighed softly, and his irritation transformed into guilt. "I'm sorry. I know you're trying to help me. I'm just . . ." He paused, not wanting to burden her further. _He_knew what was wrong with him; there was no reason to involve Temari as well.

His sister, however, seemed undeterred by his silence. "Sleep-deprived, chakra-exhausted, and wanting to be anywhere but here?" Her analysis was blunt, as always.

Gaara felt a sad smile threaten to bend his lips. "Something like that." He absently walked across the floor to opposite wall. He paused and stared out one window, lost in thought. His gaze fell upon the rock garden beyond, its sand raked into swirling patterns. "With Shukaku gone, I'm just not sure if I . . ." He still wasn't sure what the implications of Shukaku's loss meant for his fighting abilities, which was unnerving when his greatest responsibility was to protect his village. And the sheer stress of having been abducted, killed, and revived was something he couldn't even quantify himself, much less explain to someone else.

Temari followed him. She took his shoulder gently and pulled him back to her. Then she took his hands again, repositioning them for the dance. Her expression softened again. "You're going to be fine. I'm sure of that." Her tone grew mock-formal. "Shall we dance?"

Caught between the guilt and a strange comfort at her touch, Gaara nodded. "Sure."

"Okay. Like I said, I'm playing the role of the man for now. I'm going to step to my right, and you're going to follow with your left foot. Then I'm going to step back, and you're going to follow me. After that, I'll step to my left, and you'll follow with your right. Finally, I'll step forward, and you'll step back. Got that?"

Gaara felt as though Temari had just spoken in a foreign language. He simply sighed. "Just do it."

"Here we go, then." Temari stepped sideways with her right foot, then backward. "Good, follow along."

Gaara tried to match her steps, but when it was his turn to step backward, he became confused and stepped forward instead, accidentally treading on Temari's foot. "Sorry!" He jerked his foot away, only to move more quickly than his sister expected, causing them to trip and fall. With a grunt, Temari landed on top of him.

An amused male voice drifted to them from the doorway. "I can see this is going really well, _jan_."

Gaara snapped his gaze toward the door and glared at Kankuro. "Glad you're amused." He suddenly realized his sister's chest was too close to his face and blushed again. Feeling that he might die of embarrassment, he gasped and attempted to shift from under her. "Temari, get off of me. Now."

Temari scrambled to her feet. "Sorry!" She paused, glanced toward Kankuro, then turned again to glare at Gaara. "Still, you're the one who tripped us."

Kankuro chuckled. "Man, you both lack grace."

"Your sense of humour isn't appreciated." Gaara glowered at his brother. The fact his body still moved stiffly or clumsily at times made him uncomfortable, although the med nin had assured him that his normal reflexes would return with more rest. Then again, that meant sleep, which led him back to a subject he didn't want to consider.

"Yeah, jackass," Temari said to Kankuro. "Let's see you do better!"

As the two traded glares, Gaara sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, resting his elbows on his knees. He sensed a verbal sparring match brewing between his older siblings, and the enormity of what he had to learn so quickly fell on him like a concrete pillar. His minor headache threatened to explode into a migraine.

Kankuro apparently was going to avoid fighting with their sister, though. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he said, holding his hands in front of himself. "The easiest way for us to start is to let Gaara watch _us_dance. Then he can see where his feet need to go." He walked over and crouched by Gaara, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "How's that? Want to see what it's supposed to look like before you really try it?"

Gaara glanced up. "Sure. And if you're good at it, I'll be kind enough to let you go and dance for me."

"Sorry, no can do." Kankuro smiled. "But I know we can teach you how to do this and do it well." He stood and walked over to Temari, his entire demeanour radiating self-assurance.

Gaara watched his brother's confident strides, noting that he wore simple black clothes and no face paint today. Without the Bunraku uniform and Kabuki paint, his brother struck quite a different figure, but he seemed just as poised as when he entered battle.

"Shall we?" Kankuro asked Temari, adopting a formal bearing. He bowed to her and then extended one hand.

Temari gaped momentarily, apparently taken aback by Kankuro's acting skills. Then she recovered herself. "Sure." She curtsied and put her hand into his.

Kankuro put his hand on her waist, and she rested her hand on his shoulder. Then he proceeded to guide them through several graceful rounds of the four-step. After a few minutes, he slowed them to a stop and turned back to Gaara, who stared at him in utter shock.

"Does that make more sense now?" Kankuro asked.

Gaara couldn't find his voice. His brother's utter grace and formality—his no-nonsense maturity—stunned him. His smart-mouthed, punk brother's performance streak seemed to cover more than fighting with puppets.

Kankuro raised an eyebrow. "What?" He'd apparently noticed Gaara's shock. "Was it the bow and curtsy? That's just the standard beginning of the dance. It's no big deal."

"No, it's just . . ." Gaara wasn't sure how to put his thoughts into words, but Kankuro's observation made him note just how many motions the dance involved. He felt the corner of one eyelid twitch. "How many of the formalities are required?"

"Just that one," Kankuro replied. "The rest of the formality will be covered by your tuxedo, actually. All you have to do is bow and then dance one song. Then you can retire to the wall and watch everyone else the rest of the evening." He grinned. "Although I'm sure plenty of girls will —"

Temari elbowed Kankuro in the side and gave Gaara a fake smile. "That's right. One dance and it's over."

Gaara was not fooled. He narrowed his eyes. "Plenty of girls will do what?" That sounded ominous, especially in light of the way the village girls seemed to squeal and blush around him. However, before he could further pursue the matter, the rest of his brother's words registered with him. "And what is a tuxedo?"

Kankuro traded a glance with Temari. "A tuxedo is a black suit with long coat tails. It's kinda like a fancier version of the trench coat and pants you wear. In a way."

"All the guys will be wearing them," Temari added. "They're the big rage since the merchants imported them; sometimes I think they'll replace kimonos as formal wear." She sighed. "And don't worry about the girls. Sure, girls will want to dance with you, but Kankuro and I will hold them off if you want us to."

"You're coming as my bodyguards, then," Gaara said, deadpan once again. He wondered if his siblings had learned to distinguish his sense of humour from his normal seriousness. Then again, he was halfway not joking. He absently massaged his left temple with his fingers. "My life is going to be in danger."

Kankuro laughed, apparently having figured it out. "It's not that bad, I promise."

Temari snorted and shook her head. "Dancing doesn't normally involve bodily harm."

As his siblings continued to provide reasons not to worry, Gaara realized that he had seen a tuxedo before, and he turned to Kankuro with wide-eyed horror. "Wait. I've seen a tuxedo, and it's nothing like my clothes. My normal clothes don't have _ruffles_."

Kankuro made a sudden gagging noise. He covered his mouth with one hand in a show of mock nausea.

"We are _not_ getting you a tux with ruffles!" Temari sounded scandalized by the mere thought. She made a scoffing noise and glanced at Kankuro as though waiting for him to agree.

Kankuro let his hand fall from his mouth and waved it in front of his chest—an emphatic _no_ gesture. "Neither you nor I will be caught dead in ruffles. I swear. A simple tux. Black, sleek, with a normal shirt underneath." He shuddered. "If anyone gets near me with ruffles, I'll shove them into Kuroari, torture, and kill them."

"Good." Gaara felt relieved by his brother's sheer adamant reaction, but with that problem solved, his mind wandered back to the implication that other women would want to dance with him . . . and what that would mean. It seemed to be a more difficult problem than the tuxedos, especially given the more he thought about it, the worse the dilemma became. He glanced away from his siblings. "I won't be expected to dance with anyone other than Tsunade-sama, will I?"

"No," Temari replied. "Whether you dance with anyone else or not is entirely up to you." She walked around to face Gaara and smirked. "If anyone says anything about your not being sociable enough, I'll dance with you in order to shut them up. That okay?"

Gaara understood with even greater clarity then that his sister really did care for him and look after him. Her suggestion, though she had smirked, was a clear attempt to support him. He nodded. "Thank you," he said quietly. He still wasn't sure what to be more perturbed about — the fact that he might have to spend an entire night dancing or the fact that the idea of physical closeness with girls was making him feel uncomfortable.

Temari clapped her hands together. "Good! Now back to the lesson."

Gaara shook the thoughts away and stood, resigning himself to his horrible fate.

"You might want to lock your arms for the first few tries in order to lead him more easily," Kankuro told Temari, stepping out of their way as they orientated themselves. "You can get him to relax his elbow later. And you'll probably want to count the steps as you go so he knows exactly when you're going to move." He retreated to the doorway, then turned around suddenly. "Oh! And let him watch your feet at first. Don't worry about making him look you in the eyes yet." He paused, absently rubbing his chin. "Let's see . . . what else?"

Gaara stared at his brother, stunned that he knew so much about the subject. The shock immediately gave way to fear, however, as he realized he'd have to learn and remember all of that in three days. "Learning a new jutsu would be easier," he mumbled.

Temari sighed and glared at Kankuro. "Yeah, I know, I know! I remember our stupid lessons."

_Lessons?_ Gaara wondered. _What are they talking about? Must have been when we were much younger._

Kankuro raised both hands defensively. "I know! I was just trying to —"

"Whatever." Temari huffed, her cheeks flushing. "If you're so good at it, _you_teach him. Call me back in three days, and I'll test his ability to lead a woman. Got it?"

Gaara started to protest, then recognized that his sister was on the war path. It was best to stay out of her way; an angry Temari was a dangerous Temari.

"Hey, wait!" Kankuro ran his fingers back through his hair, pausing his hand on top of his head. "I wasn't criticizing you. I just —"

Temari held up one hand for silence. "Never. Mind. Got it or not?"

Kankuro cringed, apparently realizing he'd lost this round of Sibling Rivalry. "Yeah, yeah. I got it, _jan_."

"Good." Temari stalked toward the door. She whisked past Kankuro as though he weren't standing there.

Kankuro sighed explosively, closed one eye, and glared after her. "Man, what is her issue?"

Gaara glowered at his brother, thinking he was probably doomed now. Kankuro struck him as far too macho to help him learn to dance. It was all fine when his brother was giving Temari pointers, but Gaara was having trouble imagining Kankuro leading him in the box step. "I'm pondering whether or not I should kill you for getting rid of Temari. It depends on whether you're better."

"Well . . ." Kankuro strolled back onto the dojo floor. "She wouldn't want you to know this, but Father laughed at her at the diplomatic gathering where we had to dance. Even after taking lessons, she was awkward at it, so I was left to dance with all the young daughters of the representatives. It's a really bad memory for her, so yeah. I kinda just put my foot in my mouth."

Gaara pondered this for a moment, but given his sister's lack of the stereotypical feminine graces, the story made sense. He didn't remember any such party, but then again, he hadn't been an accepted member of the household. "All right," he said, sighing. He gave his brother a hooded-eye stare. "Make this simple, and teach me fast. I don't have time for this, and the sooner you teach me, the sooner you can get back on Temari's good side."

"Right." Kankuro ran his hand through his spiky brown hair. "Oh, boy . . . Okay." He blushed faintly.

Gaara stoically watched his brother's unease. Kankuro was a mix of contradictions: a loner who loved to perform; a punk who doted on his family. He put off the lazy air of one who was laidback, yet he was a self-starter who trained relentlessly. He followed orders as given, yet he wasn't afraid to defy authority for his family's sake. He could be loud and obnoxious, and at the same time he was an excellent listener. Gaara wondered which facet of his brother's personality would win in this situation.

Kankuro seemed to gather his wits, then his face grew set with determination. Apparently the performer/warrior had won and was ready to instruct. "Okay," he said, meeting Gaara's gaze. "I'll take over the lead as the 'man' until you learn the steps, and then you can lead me instead." He inhaled deeply, as though mentally preparing himself. "First, bow to your dancing partner." He paused. "Er . . . we'll both bow, since we're both guys, okay? Now, bow." He bowed to his younger brother.

Gaara cocked a hairless eyebrow at him, but Kankuro's seriousness seemed to be holding. Internally, he felt shocked senseless that Kankuro was going to actually dance _with_ him, yet he wasn't in a position to question it. He pushed down his reaction and bowed in return.

"All right," Kankuro said, stepping up to Gaara. "My left hand goes on your waist, and your right hand goes on my shoulder." He grasped his brother's waist.

Gaara flinched slightly as Kankuro's fingers wrapped around him, struck suddenly by how much taller and larger his brother was. Gaara had never stopped to consider it before, but it occurred to him that compared to his nii-san, he was the right height and build to play the part of a woman. Just as it had when Temari had suggested the thick-soled boots, a sense of discomfort ran through Gaara, and he wondered if he'd continue to grow taller and fill out. Some day he wanted to be able to literally look the councilmen eye-to-eye. "Right." He put his hand on his brother's shoulder, again forcing the thoughts and sensations away.

If Kankuro noticed Gaara's slight hesitation, he never let on. "Then we grasp our other hands at slightly above shoulder level." He took Gaara's hand in his.

Gaara realized how stretched out he felt. "This is awkward."

"Sorry." Kankuro lowered their arms a bit. "As the man, it's your duty to make sure the positioning is comfortable based on the woman's height."

There it was again: the thought of dancing with some unfamiliar girl. Or Tsunade, who undeniably had — "All right," he said, distracting himself. "Now what?"

"Now I want you to lock your elbow and wrist," Kankuro said. "Make them rigid so if I push or pull on your arm, your whole body will follow suit. We won't do this as you get comfortable with the steps, but for now, it'll help me guide you." As though demonstrating, he pushed on Gaara's hand and arm.

Gaara stumbled faintly, then caught on and stepped back. "I see."

"Good." Kankuro pulled Gaara in close to him. "I'll explain every step as we take it, but I want you to watch my feet. Our feet. Again, not something you want to do in the end, but you need it for now."

Gaara paused momentarily, uncomfortable just as he had been with his sister. Since people usually only touched him to hurt him or to carry him when he was chakra-exhausted, he couldn't shake his unease. He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled. It was fine, he told himself. It was only his hand and his waist, and Kankuro had carried him several times when he was unconscious. And it was his brother, who he knew he could trust to get that close. "All right," he said finally, opening his eyes. He cleared his mind and focused on learning the dance.

"Okay, first we're stepping to my right." Kankuro pressed on Gaara's waist as he pulled on his left hand. "So step left."

Gaara frowned, watching their feet, and did his best to follow.

Kankuro stopped. "Now I'm going to step back, and you're going to step forward with your right foot."

Gaara nodded, staring at their feet as they moved. This time, he managed to step forward without treading on anyone's foot.

"Good!" Kankuro tugged him to the right. "Now we're going to step sideways to my left and your right."

Gaara followed this step with ease. "That part is simple enough."

"Yep." Kankuro stopped again. "Now you're going to step backwards, and I'm going to step forward with my right foot. Okay?"

Gaara had the fleeting thought that he'd best step in time with his brother, or he'd end up bruised. Kankuro danced with great exuberance. "All right." He stepped backward as Kankuro moved forward, then he was struck by a sudden realization that did not amuse him. "This is like taijutsu training."

Kankuro chuckled as they stopped once more. "Maybe." He lowered their raised arms. "Well, you've completed one rotation or 'box' now. That's the basic step — very straightforward and simple."

Gaara wasn't impressed. "If you used _henge_, you could disguise yourself as me and dance in my place."

"I see your sense of humour is improving."

"Who says I'm joking?"

Kankuro grinned and raised their arms again. "Time to modify the dance slightly."

"Modify?" Gaara wasn't sure he would remember the original version.

"I prefer it this way." Kankuro seemed terribly joyful about it, like someone who had rediscovered a past hobby. "Now, every time you step sideways with your left foot, we're going to move at a faint angle. If we do, after several rounds, we'll have rotated 360 degrees. Makes the dance look more . . . artful, I guess."

Gaara never had entirely accounted for Kankuro's blatant performer's streak, given that he was otherwise introverted. Even now it mystified him. "If you say so."

Kankuro winked at him — his habitual mannerism. "I do." He guided his brother to step left. "Angle your step slightly forward this time."

"Wai —" Gaara was taken slightly off guard, but he managed to follow as Kankuro began the dance again.

"Step forward. Good, now step right. Keep the slight angle going! Okay, step back."

Gaara began to feel like he was dodging kunai. It was doing nothing for his nerves. "Kankuro . . ."

His brother, though, proved to be a ruthless trainer. "Excellent! Keep going." He didn't let Gaara pause. "Take larger steps this time; you can continue to watch our feet if necessary." He swept them into a faster, more graceful motion.

"Kankuro!" Gaara tightened his hand on his brother's shoulder, fearing for a moment he'd be tugged off his feet, but he managed to complete several rotations. As Kankuro drew them to a stop, Gaara sighed. "I think I have the basics." He felt vaguely like dashing from the room.

His brother's eyes twinkled with delight. He obviously loved to dance. "Of course you do. It's not that hard. So stop looking at our feet." He wiggled Gaara's arm. "And loosen your elbow and wrist. We'll go through this one more time, but now you have to look me in the eyes."

Gaara stared at his brother, shocked on two counts: one, by seeing Kankuro so animated outside of battle; and two, by realizing he had just been given more things to remember. "But —"

"Relax." Kankuro smiled, and it made his entire face glow. "It's supposed to be free-flowing and fun. I'm your guide, so just follow me. And this time, we'll do it for real." He stepped closer, placing his palm on the small of Gaara's back. "Which means we'll have to stand closer now. Ready?"

Gaara internally cringed, still unable to overcome the oddness of receiving nonviolent touches. However, as he considered the other option — practicing with Temari — he decided it would be less uncomfortable with his brother. At least when he danced with Kankuro he wasn't constantly reminded about dancing with women. He took a deep breath and nodded.

"Remember to look me in the eyes." Kankuro paused, apparently making sure Gaara was indeed ready, then moved them through a series of graceful, almost circular steps.

Gaara tried to match gazes with his brother as they danced, and as he relaxed into the steps, he found the movement almost hypnotic. After a moment, he realized he wasn't even blinking. Kankuro smiled at him, apparently noticing this, and began to turn them at more of an angle, swirling them through the entire dojo. Fearing once again that he'd be literally swept off his feet, Gaara clutched his brother tightly, but Kankuro's grip on his waist seemed solid. By the time they came to a stop in the middle of the room, he realized he was catching on.

"Well done!" Kankuro seemed pleased. He released Gaara and took a step back, running his fingers through his hair. "You picked that up very quickly."

Gaara nodded and rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "As long as I can remember it all." He frowned, comprehending the implications. "It wouldn't be pleasant if I stepped on Tsuande-sama's feet."

"We'll be practicing together every day until the ball, so there's nothing to be worried about." Kankuro chuckled — almost an evil little snicker. "But you're not done yet, _jan_."

Gaara's stomach sank with a distinct _thump_. "There's more?"

Kankuro laughed outright. "Humour me! We need to go through at least one round today with _you_ leading."

"Me lead you?" Gaara couldn't even imagine it since Kankuro was taller and bigger than he was. He was doomed, he decided with utter conviction as Kankuro laughed again. Absolutely doomed.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**__ Please note that __**this story explores the possibility or theory that Gaara has ignored girls all his life and has no experience dating**__— that he poured all his time into killing, then all his time into learning to control Shukaku and becoming Kazekage. If you're of the Gaara's-been-sexually-active-since-age-12 camp, then you'll need to read this story with a grain of salt . . . or not read it at all if Innocent!Gaara annoys you. I'm telling you upfront, so you have been warned._

_Also, I actually had someone teach me the box step so I could write this. I tried to explain it as clearly as I could in my dialogue and descriptions, but if anything came out wrong, please let it go. My dancing expertise or lack thereof is not the point of the story, regardless of the title. (laughs)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Translation reminders (jic): I do prefer just a touch of Japanese with my English, kinda like salt sprinkled on your mash potatoes and gravy. "Nii-san" means "older brother"; "ototo" means "younger brother"; and "jan" is the Yokohama punk accent word Kankuro throws into his sentences, much like Naruto says "dattebayo."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

"Me lead you?" Gaara couldn't even imagine it. He was doomed, he decided with utter conviction as Kankuro laughed. Absolutely doomed. He sighed explosively, half hoping the release would make him feel better. It didn't.

"Don't sigh like that." Kankuro grinned. "It's not hard to lead. With her high-heeled shoes, Tsunade-hime will actually be a touch taller than you, so it'll be good practice. Besides, your hands act as guides, nothing more. Tsunade-hime will know where and when and how to move. The two of you will glide together; I'll prove it to you."

Gaara gave his brother a hooded-eyed stare. "You hardly look like Tsunade-sama." He sighed again, unable to understand, much less explain, why dancing made him so grumpy. Somehow the entire custom seemed ridiculous. Perhaps he could blame his feelings on the way he had been avoiding sleep and the amount of stress he'd been under, but he seriously doubted it.

"Well, no." Kankuro smirked. "If you said I did look anything like her, I'd be insulted, considering I'm a man."

Gaara could tell his brother's good mood could not be dampened. "It might be easier for me if she did look more like you," he muttered, his mind once again accosted by the unwanted memory of Tsunade's greater assets.

"Don't say that." Kankuro grinned. "Okay, let's start this off right." He grew serious once more. "Bow to me." He bowed to his younger brother.

Gaara steeled himself and bowed. No matter what Kankuro promised, Gaara didn't think dancing with his brother — someone familiar whom he trusted — was going to be the same as dancing with a virtual stranger. The thought of generating the emotional energy necessary to not only expose his lack of dancing experience to all Konoha but also to interact with a woman he'd only met twice was daunting. He had always been too isolated, too private of a person to enjoy social events, and the rituals that surrounded concepts like dancing, dating, and flirting positively mystified him.

"Okay," Kankuro said, apparently unaware of his brother's inner turmoil, "extend your right hand to me."

Gaara reminded himself that spending time with Kankuro was effortless and often quite soothing. He hadn't realized it until he'd gotten Shukaku under control, but the barrier between himself and his brother had — at least on Kankuro's side — never been one of hate. It had been fear. The more Gaara had changed his attitude and subdued Shukaku, the closer Kankuro had drawn to him, until the younger boy had begun to sense something from his older brother, something akin to concern, worry, or . . . some warmer emotion directed at him that he still tried to grasp and understand.

With that thought, Gaara relaxed and released some of his tension. "Right." He extended his hand and took Kankuro's.

Kankuro laced their fingers together. "Okay, now put your left hand on my waist."

Gaara nodded and complied, thinking his hand looked small in comparison to his brother's body. Then again, despite his broad shoulders, part of Kankuro's size was an optional illusion created by the baggy, black clothes he preferred. Gaara suspected that his brother did it on purpose; he enjoyed intimidating his enemies. And just as Gaara suspected, the waist under his hand was narrower than he expected.

Kankuro rested his right hand on Gaara's shoulder. "Now, _you_ will step sideways with your right foot, and I'll step with my left. Do the same thing we just did, but in reverse. Keep your arms relaxed, and keep your eyes on my face. Ready?"

Gaara's stress returned as he worried he'd mess it up, especially with his body's odd lingering stiffness. "Sure." He didn't think he was feeling competitive, but at the same time he felt pressure to perform well. And it wasn't like a battle; fighting felt far more intuitive to him.

"Then begin at will." Kankuro smiled. "I promise to keep up with you."

Gaara nodded and stepped sideways, and he was relieved to find Kankuro followed him gracefully. To his surprise, Gaara felt almost like one of Kankuro's puppets because they glided along so easily. Even though Gaara had to focus on his next move, his brother matched his steps almost as though they were connected by chakra strings. His anxiety lessened somewhat as he realized Kankuro could likely follow whatever he did.

"Good," Kankuro murmured, following Gaara as he stepped backward.

"Still," Gaara said, stepping to the side to begin the dance again, "this is harder than it looks." He almost asked his brother if all puppeteers made good dancers, but he nearly fumbled and had to return his concentration to the steps. He glanced at their feet, not wanting to get tangled up again.

"Not really," Kankuro replied. "Your body is just adjusting to having to do it in reverse now." He paused. "And try to look up if you can. If you can't, it's okay. It's your first try, after all."

Gaara internally cringed. Since he'd never considered himself a clumsy person, he wanted to get the dance correct. "Sorry."

Kankuro lifted his hand from Gaara's shoulder and grasped his chin, tilting up his face. It was almost like he was going to chuck his chin, but he stopped short of that and simply smiled. "Hey, no apologies." His tone was kinder than usual, his rough accent smoothed over. "You're doing great."

Gaara flinched at the sudden touch, feeling uncomfortable again. Why did nonviolent touches affect him so much? He couldn't quite puzzle it out, but he knew it was connected to the growing bond between his brother and him — that care or concern, that emotion he was trying to grasp. Something about it unsettled him, and the very fact it did disturb him made him even more uncomfortable. _Other people can touch in casual situations and not react,_ he thought, irritated. _Why am I so different?_

Kankuro had released Gaara's chin immediately upon seeing him flinch. He didn't say anything, but a familiar expression ghosted across his face, one Gaara knew well. It wasn't fear, exactly, but more like the recoil of someone who had tried to pet a friendly cat and been hissed at. As if sensing the sudden tension, Kankuro broke his own rule and began watching their feet.

Realizing he'd made his brother uncomfortable, Gaara stopped dancing. "I'm sorry." Ever since he'd been revived from death and heard Kankuro say that he'd always look out for him, Gaara had desperately wanted to avoid hurting his brother, even accidentally. Yet here he was, doing exactly that. "It's just . . ."

Kankuro had stopped with him. "No, no. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be offering critique just yet." He looked up and stared at the wall. "I'm probably pushing too hard." He released Gaara and, as though he were embarrassed, ran one hand through his spiky hair. "I just . . . well, I like to dance, to be frank, and I never get to. So I'm trying to tell you everything at once." He dropped his hand. "But you really are picking it up fast."

"You explain it better than Temari does. And it's . . ." Gaara paused, unsure how to explain. "It's not the dancing."

"It's not?" Kankuro sounded awfully hopeful. "So the dancing's okay?"

"Hn." Gaara nodded. "It's . . ." He hesitated, unable to explain why and how he was confused.

"Oh!" Kankuro grinned with what Gaara took to be relief, then paused, apparently sensing his brother's confusion. "Then what is it?"

Gaara turned away and walked over to benches that lined the wall. He sat down, slumping to prop his elbows on his legs, and stared at the floor. He wondered if counting the lines in the hardwood floors would calm his mind. It was awfully tempting. Still, the overhead light reflected brightly off the polished wood, creating a white halo that obscured some of the lines, making them harder to count.

Before he could begin, Kankuro followed and sat beside him. "Did I . . . say something wrong?"

Gaara shook his head. Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Kankuro glance at him, and his brother's tone of voice convinced Gaara even more that he had worried him. But much as he wanted to fix the problem, he wasn't sure how to approach it. He didn't want Kankuro to be concerned, yet he didn't exactly want to talk about it, either.

"So I wasn't being too pushy?"

"No!" Gaara realized he'd snapped and felt mortified. He sighed and leaned down, putting his head in his hands.

A long pause followed, and Gaara finally looked up.

Kankuro stared at the wall as though deep in thought. "I . . . see," he replied at length and blushed. "Is it because . . . is it because dancing requires us to — to embrace? Or . . ." He hesitated and turned his stare to the floor. "Oh. Is it because I touched you — your face?"

Gaara could tell Kankuro struggled with the Unspoken Sea of Emotions Men Didn't Usually Discuss. Though certain feelings in general had been cumbersome and foreign to Gaara for many years, he had seen Kankuro interact with other men enough to know there were unspoken rules of manhood involving avoiding public displays of said feelings.

"It's . . ." Gaara sighed. He knew his brother was trying hard, and he wanted to try just as hard to explain, even if it embarrassed him. "It's just that I'm not used to people touching me. Or to people in general." He snorted softly. "The thought of going to an event where there are people expecting me to socialize this way . . . I don't know if I can do that. I don't even know if I understand it enough to."

Kankuro smirked and leaned back against the wall, crossing his ankle over his knee in the process. "You interact with the council well enough, especially considering a lot of them are bastards."

"Maybe. But being Kazekage is one thing." Gaara leaned against the wall. The wood pushed uncomfortably against his spine, but he ignored it. "I know what I stand for here, and if I go out in public as the Kazekage, people generally respect me. I know where I stand and where they stand — I'm a warrior. But this isn't about fighting. And I know so little about . . ." He paused, unwanted images of Tsunade's assets returning to mind. "Other things."

"Oh!" Kankuro's tone of voice revealed that he understood the implication of Gaara's words.

Gaara felt his face flush with embarrassment at his admissions. "I don't even like being around other people, especially ones I don't know." He scoffed at himself. "But I went and got myself this position, and now I have to do this. Maybe I wasn't as suited for Kazekage as I had hoped."

"Don't say that, _jan_." Kankuro sounded grave. "You'll get better at the socializing part. I know the way you analyze things: you'll learn to analyze people, and as a result, you'll figure out what to say and when and how." He glanced at Gaara and smiled. "Besides, you must be doing something right or half the village wouldn't have chased after you when you were abducted. That kind of devotion isn't inspired by someone who has nothing to offer personally."

Gaara was caught off-guard by his brother's honesty and wasn't sure how to reply. "Hn." He nodded, then stared at his feet. The lines in the floor were beginning to look interesting again; the sunset had crawled across the floor, mixing its crimson glow with the white overhead light. He internally smacked himself for his inattention and tipped his head to look at his nii-san.

Kankuro reached toward his arm, only to pause and let his hand drop. "Everyone needs to be alone sometimes, too. Temari and I normally sneak off to get fresh air during diplomatic stuff, but this time we won't so we can 'guard' you." He grinned. "Still, we're private people, also. It's okay to be that way, even if you're Kazekage. There's nothing wrong with the person you are now, and given how far you've come in the past three years, I can't see you getting anything but better."

"You're right." Gaara hesitated, pensive. Oddly, he felt more like a normal 15-year-old boy than Kazekage at the moment, and he realized he was painfully unaware of what constituted normal social practices. "I'll try. It's just . . ." He shook his head. "Ever since two weeks ago I feel like my head has cleared. As if I can think. And it feels —" He stopped to consider the sensation, then tried to put it into words that a non-jinchuuriki could understand. "I used to always know what to think because I was always fighting Shukaku. Always. It took up every bit of my attention that wasn't devoted to whatever physical task was at hand. But now I don't have to fight him, and I'm thinking about things I wouldn't have thought about before. Things that pop up suddenly into my head. I don't know where they come from."

Kankuro chuckled. "Well, that's not so odd, considering. In a sense, you've been set free. Aside from being the youngest Kazekage in history, you can be a typical guy."

"Typical?" The idea that all these unwanted thoughts and feelings were normal distressed Gaara. A burning frustration invaded his stomach. "No. I wish I could control it. I wish I could just turn it off and forget about it." He squeezed his eyes shut and fisted his hands. "I just . . ." He opened his eyes again, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I wish it would make sense."

"I think you always wanted things to make sense. It's just now they actually can make sense where they couldn't before." Kankuro smiled. "Don't pull away from it — embrace it. You've been given a second life." His voice grew quiet as well. "A life of freedom, a life where you can be happy. I'll help, if you like." A faint flush rose across his cheeks. "Just talk. I'll listen."

Gaara felt awkward, yet inexplicably reassured. "I will." He paused, and a tiny smile turned up the corner of his lips. "I suppose I should be thankful that the least of my worries is learning to dance."

"Yeah." Kankuro grinned and stood. "Would you . . ." His grin fell away, and he hesitated, as though unsure of himself. "You said you weren't used to being touched." He glanced toward the bank of windows and closed one eye momentarily. "That's something I can help you with in the next few days, at least as it concerns dancing." He turned his gaze back to Gaara and extended his hand. "You wanna dance one more time today?"

Gaara followed his gaze, looking out the window and noting two birds swooping toward the ground. They banked sharply, turning toward each other and flapping their wings. Realizing they were fighting, Gaara found himself wishing that he had an external opponent he could combat; it would be easier. However, he only had himself to face. In truth, he wanted to say no, but he knew the problem wouldn't get any better, especially if he didn't work at it. "All right." He stood and took his brother's hand.

Kankuro pulled Gaara into the center of the dojo, then released his hand. "Do you want to lead, or do you want me to?"

Gaara considered it, then shook his head. He felt tired and overextended. "Perhaps you should lead." He sighed. "If I'm adjusting to dancing and having to be in close contact with someone else, I don't want to think about too many things at once."

"Makes sense." Kankuro paused, then gave Gaara an oddly gentle look. "Okay." He bowed to Gaara and held out his hand again.

Gaara wondered at the kind look, but he set his thoughts aside and bowed to his brother. He clasped hands with Kankuro and paused as their fingers touched, trying to analyze the sensation logically. It was just skin, after all. It was nothing he hadn't felt before. The touch in itself couldn't be threatening.

Kankuro pulled him close and put his hand on the small of his back. "Hand on my shoulder," he prompted.

"Right." As he put his hand on his brother's shoulder, Gaara noticed how warm Kankuro felt and how strangely supporting the warmth was. After the Konoha Invasion, Gaara had stopped considering his siblings mere lumps of flesh, but he'd still been unable to understand what connection held the three of them together. If it wasn't fear any longer, and if his brother wasn't just a lump of flesh, but a warm, constant presence, then what bond did they truly share?

"Now remember," Kankuro said, interrupting Gaara's thoughts, "elbow loose and keep your eyes on my face. Ready?"

Gaara took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Yes."

"Let's begin, then." He stepped left, keeping their movements slow.

Gaara kept his eyes on his brother but attempted to focus more on the movements, thinking that if he turned dancing into a training exercise, he could master it. If he kept letting personal issues distract him, he would never learn how to dance.

"You're kinda looking through me instead of at me," Kankuro said after a moment. "Plus your back is stiff. Try to relax into the movement."

Gaara took a second deep breath, realizing he was being a lousy dance partner. "I'll try." He reached within himself to find the calm center he used to seek when Shukaku was torturing him, then he was struck by the understanding that the only thing stopping him from being calm was himself. _He_ was the one over-focusing on the concept of human contact; Shukaku was no longer there to prod him toward violence, to urge him to kill, to tempt him to make all human contact hostile, brutal, and sadistic. Recognizing that no evil force was swelling in him, trying to fill him with impulses he didn't want, Gaara allowed himself to slowly relax.

"Good," Kankuro murmured. As they finished their third round of the box step, he pressed against Gaara's back, pulling him closer, then widened the path of their dance with larger steps.

Gaara refused to be distracted. He concentrated on Kankuro's breathing, the motion of their feet, and eventually allowed himself to close his eyes, trusting his brother to guide him safely.

As though sensing the trust granted to him, Kankuro pulled Gaara closer still, holding him tightly as he sped up their steps and angled their movements until they swung gracefully throughout the dojo.

Gaara kept his eyes closed, letting the movements wash through him, and as a result, it took him a moment to register when they stopped. "Hn?" He opened his eyes and found that they were standing near the benches again; he'd lost himself enough that he hadn't been paying attention. "I'm sorry. I wasn't —"

"You were b —" Kankuro paused and released his brother. "Uh, good job, man. That was great." He seemed pleasantly stunned by Gaara's effort.

Gaara retreated to the bench, not able to find a reply. The experience had been almost peacefully surreal, and Gaara hadn't realized humans could create such a state of mind through simple touch. He had only ever managed it through silent meditation.

Kankuro sat beside him. "No, really. You let go, and it was very natural." He grinned. "By the time we're done practicing tomorrow, we'll shock Temari on the third day, _jan_. She'll be impressed by how well you'll dance."

Gaara dragged a tiny smile onto his lips. "Hopefully."

"Right, then." Kankuro hopped back to his feet. "Should we call it a night?"

"That'd be best." Gaara stood as well and rubbed his face, realizing just how tired he'd become. As relaxed as he felt from the last dance, the rest of the day had exhausted him. "But —" He paused, then forced himself to say what he was thinking. "Thank you. For the help."

"Anytime, man. And considering how much I love to dance, I really didn't mind."

Gaara nodded. He hadn't really thought of Kankuro having any hobbies other than collecting and creating puppets. His brother's dancing talent wasn't surprising, but his interest in it was. His small smile turned wry. "Perhaps I should send you to diplomatic functions more often."

"No!" Kankuro shook his head emphatically. "I mean, if I can dance, I'd probably agree to it. That one party Father made Temari and me attend was fun, except for the part where Father made fun of her. But the others were boring, _jan._"

Gaara raised one hairless brow. "Well, if Tsunade-sama is in charge of the preparations, I'm sure her gala will have plenty of sake to go around."

"True." Kankuro laughed. "In fact, I bet the ball will turn into a wild, drunken party."

Gaara's small smile vanished. "Great," he groaned, rubbing his face again. He headed for the door, not wanting to drag out that conversation any longer. "What time should we meet tomorrow?"

Kankuro fell into step beside him. "After supper?"

"That will work." He opened the door, ready to step out into the cool night.

His brother paused behind him. "Gaara . . ." He hesitated further. "Sleep well."

Gaara glanced at Kankuro, faintly surprised his brother had discerned his concern over the necessity of sleeping. Still, the words somewhat lessened the icy fear that was hiding in his gut. "Thanks. You, too."

Kankuro gave him a ghost of a smile, and Gaara headed toward the main building, preparing himself to face his fate.

* * *

><p>As he crossed the courtyard toward the kitchen, Kankuro stared at the rock garden, his gaze caught on the stone lanterns and artfully arranged boulders that represented mountains and islands amongst the raked sand. Now that the moon had crested, pale light made the boulders seem to glow. Strangely, the scene invoked a feeling of loneliness in him, although he couldn't say why. Kankuro inhaled the night air, which had quickly cooled, and exhaled it in a sigh. Despite being tired enough to go to bed, his mind was too active; his evening spent helping Gaara was destined to haunt him.<p>

At first, it had seemed much like a training session with any number of grumpy genin he'd dealt with. However, when Gaara had finally relaxed, Kankuro had realized that his ototo had entrusted him with his care. The impact of that revelation had nearly knocked his breath from his chest, and when Kankuro added it to the way Gaara had fought to save the village two weeks earlier, he could clearly see what a truly special — indeed, spectacular — person his brother was. Granted, Gaara's hard work and dedication to bond with the village had impressed him for years now, but in the end, Gaara was more than the Kazekage. He was Kankuro's little brother.

But that entrusted care wasn't what haunted Kankuro. What bothered him was the way Gaara still struggled to understand the bonds between individual people, especially those bonds that couldn't be defined as friendship. Kankuro wasn't even sure that Gaara understood brotherhood and family ties. All three siblings had grown closer in the past three years, but they'd never actually discussed what was happening between them. The past, present, and future of their relationship were unspoken entities, like ghosts hiding in closets. Everyone heard and sensed them, but no one would open the door and acknowledge what was there.

Kankuro slid open the door and pulled off his sandals, tossing them aside. One light still shone in the common room, but the kitchen was dark. As he entered the room, he flipped on the light and frowned at the cabinets. The dancing had left him vaguely hungry, but he had no idea what he wanted. He hated moments like these. He opened door after door, staring into the refrigerator and the cabinets, but nothing looked good. Finally he sank onto one of the stools at their high-top kitchen table and glared at the fruit bowl there. Apples, oranges, and bananas. Disgusting. Apples were always either too sour or too dry; oranges were too pulpy. And bananas — well, bananas were just nasty.

Realizing that he was ultimately falling into a bad mood, Kankuro grabbed an apple, rubbed it with one shirt sleeve, then bit into it, chewing without enthusiasm. As expected from an apple that was nearly neon green, it was sour, so sour it made his mouth water too much. The apple's scent filled the room. He endured the torture silently, his mind wandering back to Gaara. Despite the unspoken nature of their bond, Kankuro desperately wanted to break the silence. He wanted to reach out, seal their connection, and reveal all the affection which he kept hidden inside. The question was whether Gaara would allow or accept it.

Hearing quiet footsteps despite his crunching, Kankuro turned toward the door in time to see Temari push aside the curtain and step in the room.

"An apple?" she asked. "_You,_ eating fruit?"

"Nothing looked good." Kankuro preferred meat and tolerated vegetables. Fruit in general was not his friend.

"How'd it go?" Temari repeated his ritual, opening the refrigerator and staring in.

Kankuro set aside his apple core and picked up an orange, trying to decide whether to battle the pulp or not. "He's picking up the dance okay, but I don't think that's the problem."

"Oh?" Temari hesitated in front of the refrigerator, pulling out several inconspicuous plastic containers that enshrined contents of questionable age and origin. Her nose wrinkled and back into endless storage they went. "What's the problem, then?"

"Touch." Kankuro set the orange on the table and spun it so that it whirled in place. It seemed a blatant contrast to the black- and white-checkered tabletop. Then again, the table itself was a contrast, the one modern piece in the otherwise traditional house. Half their furniture was antique, having been there since the First Kazekage's wife had decorated the place. Sometimes Kankuro felt like the orange or the table: secretly, he was a blatant contrast to the Suna ethic, caring about his teammates over his mission — especially when said teammates were his siblings.

"Touch?" Temari held the door open long enough to cause the refrigerator to kick on, its hum filling the room. She shut it, foodless, and turned to face him.

Kankuro nodded and met her gaze. "Apparently he's uncomfortable being touched." He frowned, wishing he could help Gaara in some way. In fact, he was overwhelmed by both his need to help and his love for his brother. Again he was struck by the need to show Gaara affection.

"That's not good," Temari said, opening one of the cabinets, staring in at the peanut butter and bread. "After all, dancing's all about touch." With a sigh, she shut the door, still foodless.

"It makes me feel guilty," Kankuro whispered, unsure if he really wanted to share his feelings. It all depended on Temari's mood. Most of the time, they both hid behind smartass remarks and teasing. They'd razz and taunt each other, all of it a mask for the bond they shared. They'd learned at a young age to hide their love — hide it from their sensei, hide it from their trainers, and most of all, hide it from their father. Love and care were weaknesses to be exploited. Love and care were liabilities to be beaten out of aspiring shinobi.

"Guilty?" Temari asked, frowning. Her brow furrowed, revealing her concern, and no smirk came to her face.

It was safe to admit his thoughts. Maybe. "Gaara doesn't know anything about socialization. He doesn't really know how to interact with people." Kankuro stared at the table as he talked, rolling the orange back and forth between his hands. "He's come a long way, sure, but he doesn't even know how to react when people touch him."

Temari plopped down on the stool across from him. "That's not really a surprise. No one has ever really touched him. I mean, you and I have carried him when he's chakra exhausted, but other than that, people were too afraid to even speak to him, much less anything more."

"We could have done more," Kankuro said, his voice still quiet, although a tinge of self-hate colored it. "Do you think . . .?" He couldn't finish the sentence. _Do you think he'll let us help now? Do you think we even can help at this late stage?_ They seemed legitimate questions. Gaara had flinched over something as simple as a touch to the face, and he seemed positively tortured by the concept of dancing. However, in the grand scheme of human contact, both of those things were totally ordinary.

Temari shrugged. "We can't change the past, little bro. We had every reason to keep our distance." She sighed and grabbed a banana, pulling back the peel. "I'm not saying we did the right thing by leaving him all alone like that, but by the time he was six, he was unapproachable. We were all three in a lose-lose situation." She bit off a large chunk and stared at him as she chewed.

_I'm losing my window of opportunity here,_ Kankuro thought, erecting one of his stoic masks. The punk persona floated near the surface of his behavior, ready to make its curtain call in an instant. Still, he held back for a moment more. Regardless of the acting skills they could both use to appear tough and callous, they shared an unbreakable bond that included the desire to help each other. "He needs to learn to be comfortable with close human contact, and I mean both the physical and emotional kind." He grimaced, trying to get through his explanation without either clamming up or looking overly sentimental. "I guess I'm saying that one of these days he'll need to be comfortable enough with it all to date, but right now, he can only think in terms of caring for the village. I don't think he even understands what it all means or what's involved."

Taking another bite of her banana, Temari chewed and studied him at the same time.

"Like, he's figured out friendship," Kankuro continued, nearly sweating in the face of his sister's silence. There were only two options when she paused like that: either he was going to get pretty thoroughly razzed, or she was going to land some hard truth right on his head. "And he's figured out bonding with the village as a whole. But he seems clueless and irritated with all the rest of it." _Hell, I don't even know if he's hit puberty yet, _Kankuro thought, uncomfortable. Gaara certainly didn't react to any of the squealing girls who swooned in his presence.

Temari swallowed and then raised one eyebrow. "So, explain it to him." Her gaze was unblinking. "You're teaching him to dance. Try to desensitize him to touch. Explain stuff to him. He confides in you, right? It means that he trusts you. If he trusts you to listen, then maybe he trusts you to advise him, too. I mean, seriously — you _are_ his nii-san."

Although he didn't reply, Kankuro flinched. So, it was the hard truth version. And Temari knew what she was saying: Kankuro wanted to be an older brother; he coveted the role. Gaara, though, had never once called him "brother" nor had he acknowledged Kankuro's insinuations or declarations on that subject. As much as Kankuro wanted to help in any way he could — even look after and protect him — Gaara had to want that kind of relationship first, and although Gaara had accepted his assistance that evening, Kankuro wasn't sure just how open he was to more.

Pushing her stool back, Temari stood and headed to the trashcan, tossing the banana peel in. "Don't give up. I see that bond forming between you two." She gave him a sudden grin, one that showed most of her teeth. "You make a great nii-san. If anyone can get him through this, you can."

"Okay. Thanks." Kankuro watched her saunter out of the room, thinking her words were definitely a double-edged sword. Perhaps a triple-edged one, if such a thing could exist. She was challenging him on one hand and encouraging him on the other. However, she was also acknowledging what they didn't speak of: Gaara was closer to him than to her. Even as she told him to build that bond, she was acknowledging that he could more easily accomplish the task than she could. Yet Kankuro wanted to take her advice. Despite knowing the silent sting of jealousy Temari felt, Kankuro wanted nothing more than to draw close to Gaara and be both his brother and his best friend, and given the chance, he knew he couldn't pass it up.

Frowning, Kankuro returned the orange to the fruit bowl, feeling vaguely ill from the tension. There was so much that he wanted — things he wanted for himself, for Gaara, and for Temari. He wondered sometimes if there was any way that they could achieve all their dreams or if the past would malinger and choke off part of the future.

* * *

><p><em>AN: And what was meant to be a humor and crack!fic suddenly turned increasingly serious in DHj's and my hands . . . We just can't leave our themes alone, eh?_

_Thank you to everyone who either originally or has now reviewed, faved, and/or put a watch on chapter 1. That's a powerful incentive for me to keep converting this story to prose._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: In Japanese culture, especially ancient culture, tanuki were often portrayed as not only tricksters and drunks but also as rather sexualized. Not necessarily lustful, just . . . well, go look up images of ancient tanuki statues and you'll see what I mean. As a result, Darkhelmetj and I imagined Shukaku had a sexualized streak buried under the violent, psychotic one._

_Higher rating for the topics addressed here._

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Gaara slid open his bedroom door, yawned as he stepped through, and shut the door behind him. Moonlight shone through the round windows, illuminating the expansive room. After his father had died, the room had been redecorated: the worn, straw tatami floors had been replaced with hardwood, the futon with a bed, and the oil lamps with electric replicas. Two maroon chairs and a matching sofa occupied the sitting area, along with a mahogany bookcase and desk. An area rug, richly woven with a maroon and gold leaf pattern, defined the first section of the room.

Unlike his father, Gaara rarely met with officials in his private quarters. He moved past the unused furniture toward the silk screen that divided the room. The screen itself was artwork — a black lacquered wooden frame that held five panels of delicate landscape paintings: sloping mountains, rice fields at dawn, a turbulent tsunami, sakura trees in bloom, and even a pagoda populated by women in kimonos.

Gaara paused before the screen, his gaze captured by the women in their bright kimonos, long sleeves flowing gracefully from their arms and smiles brightening their faces. He'd never stopped to consider the panel. He'd never stopped to consider women in any sense except as either enemy kunoichi he fought or village kunoichi he deployed on missions. He'd had no interest before age 12, and he'd had no time since. He'd overheard other men talking but had paid little attention to their crass remarks. But now . . .

Now he was being forced to think about them. A ball. Dancing with Tsunade. And, apparently, village girls with crushes on him.

"Why?" Gaara muttered to himself as he undressed and donned the PJs one maid had acquired for him — a navy, silk shirt and pants set. He knew the maids squealed when they saw him. He noticed that other girls around his age or younger tended to shriek or blush when he passed them. It was puzzle, a great mystery, but he had ultimately assumed they were interested in his power: to be the Kazekage's wife. But was that all?

"Enough," Gaara ordered himself, pushing away the disturbing thoughts. He was both emotionally and physically exhausted. He had to sleep even though he didn't want to, so he decided he might as well face it.

Gaara approached his bed like the uncharted territory it was. A deep crimson bedspread with a golden sakura design greeted him. Pristine gold and crimson cylindrical pillows and square pillows with tassels sat atop the bed. Other than to be washed because of dust collection, the bed accessories had never been touched. Gaara removed the pillows and turned down the covers with the mechanical movements of one falling asleep standing up.

He forced himself to climb between the crisp, linen sheets and lie down, but in truth he feared sleeping. Secretly, he believed he would face nothing but what people called "nightmares." He believed his mind would present a parade of images that would assault him while he was defenseless: shinobi he'd needlessly killed while he was insane, Shukaku's past wicked whispers, and memories of his own death.

However, Gaara got little chance to worry. Even as he pondered all the things that might go wrong, he slipped into sleep.

* * *

><p><em>He thought it odd.<em>

_Suddenly he was in the dojo, and it was daytime. The sun shone through the windows, catching and illuminating drifting dust motes. A haze blurred the room's corners, though, keeping them from sight._

_Echoing footsteps caught his attention, and he turned to find Temari approaching him. She held out her hands._

_"Even after the ball is over, you must keep practicing," she said._

_Gaara felt confused, sure that the ball hadn't yet occurred, but he found himself dancing with her all the same. Worried about embarrassing himself, he tried hard to remember what Kankuro had taught him, but he ended up staring at their feet._

_But then Temari was gone. Gaara glanced up and found himself standing in a pagoda. Several women in flower-print kimonos moved at the edges of his vision, but when he tried to focus on them, he couldn't make out their faces._

_"May I have this dance?"_

_Somehow Gaara knew who it was before he turned to look. Tsunade stood before him in her Hokage robes, her hand extended. So the dreaded moment had come. He took her hand and began dancing._

_"Why a pagoda?" he found himself asking her, the detail suddenly striking him as strange. However, before Tsunade could answer, Gaara tripped, causing her to fall with him just as Temari had. The Hokage landed on top of him, her breasts nearly in his face. A tingling sensation fluttered through his stomach._

_"Move," he said, reaching up to push her away._

_But then Tsunade was naked, and his hands landed on her bare shoulders. She sat up and shifted slightly, smiling. "Why the rush?" she asked, reaching up and running her fingers across the arch of her neck. "I thought you'd learned to touch others."_

_Tsunade leaned down, her face inches from Gaara's, and he felt oddly warm. In fact, he felt —_

* * *

><p>Gaara jerked awake with a gasp, sat up, and stared at the sheets bunched around him. "No," he whispered, as though denial would erase what had apparently just happened. "No," he repeated, trying to take a deep breath and calm himself. It wasn't working. He ran one hand over his face, only to realize his fingers shook. A cold sweat broke across his forehead. "Why?" The dream was so random.<p>

Gaara stumbled out of bed, pulling the sheet with him and wrapping it around himself. Wet. He was wet. It felt gross. All of it was disturbing. "Kankuro," he said to himself, his mind focusing on the only person he'd dare ask for help, for an explanation. He slid his bedroom door open and glanced into the hallway. No one. Reassured, he headed down the hall toward Kankuro's room, trying to make sense out of this new, bizarre experience. But it didn't make sense. Why would he have a dream like _that? _And why had it resulted in . . .

Gaara hesitated at Kankuro's door and raised his fist to knock, but he couldn't bring himself to shatter the silence. "Kankuro," he whispered, then realized his voice was toneless and too faint.

Shock. Psychological shock.

_This can't be happening,_he told himself numbly. Although he'd never dreamt before, much less had such an odd kind of result, a similar physiological thing had occurred several times while he'd been awake. And Shukaku had always been screaming in his mind, urging him on, torturing him until he gave in and touched himself. He'd always assumed the things that happened had been Shukaku's fault.

Gaara felt anxiety trying to edge its way into his shock. It scared him more than he liked that some remnant of Shukaku — any remnant — could be left. Had he been left permanently tainted somehow? "Kankuro!" he called, louder this time.

A thump echoed through the door, as though someone had knocked back a bench or fallen to the floor. "Gaara?" Kankuro's slurred voice came through the door. "That you? Come in."

With a shaking hand, Gaara slid open the door, walked in, then slid the door shut again, leaning heavily against it. He tried to speak, to explain himself, but no words emerged.

Kankuro sat on the bench at his worktable, rubbing his neck; he'd apparently fallen asleep there and had given himself a neck-ache. He blinked at his brother, a look of confusion washing across his face as his gaze traveled to the sheet. "What's up?"

For a strange moment, Gaara didn't feel real. Perhaps he was still dreaming. Or maybe he was still dead, hallucinating in that strange dimension between life and death. "I don't know."

Kankuro frowned and stumbled to his feet, crossing the room. He felt Gaara's forehead. "You're super pale, _jan_. You sick?"

_Not real,_ Gaara thought to himself. _None of this is real. It's all just a strange, strange —_ "Dream. I had a dream." Gaara clutched the sheet tighter. _It was always been Shukaku's fault, right? _He had thought he'd left all that behind and been freed from the monster's influence forever.

Kankuro cringed. "A nightmare?" He stopped and paused, and his blurry gaze cleared, as though he'd finally awakened. "What kind?"

"A disturbing one!" Gaara's voice was sharper than he intended. The dream images — Tsunade, sitting naked atop him — returned to his mind, and he felt a flush race across his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the thoughts.

"Okay." Kankuro sounded worried; his voice was softer, kinder than usual. "Try taking a few deep breathes, then tell me as much as you can."

Opening his eyes, Gaara stared past Kankuro's shoulder at a half-repaired Karasu, who hung on a wall hook. "Well, I was in the dojo. And Temari came in. And we were dancing. She turned into Tsunade-sama."

Kankuro nodded. "That makes sense. And?"

"And we tripped." Gaara squeezed the sheet tighter; he couldn't bring himself to explain it all. "And she fell on top of me, but —" He stopped and glanced downward.

Kankuro followed his gaze, then blushed deep crimson. "Oh!"

Reality seemed to slip through Gaara's fingers again. It wasn't real. He was still dreaming. "It's not supposed to happen anymore." Was he even speaking? It had to be the Dream Self talking. "Shukaku's gone. It's not supposed to happen."

Slowly extending his hand, Kankuro grasped Gaara's shoulder and squeezed. "This is actually perfectly normal. I mean, you're a bit older than usual, but since you never slept before, I guess it was unavoidable."

"Normal?" No, it wasn't even a dream. It was a nightmare. "But Shukaku always used to . . . ever since the Konoha Invasion. And I'd have to make it go away. He'd try to take control of me that way. I thought with him gone it would stop." He shook his head, adamant. Weird things, disturbing things, had always been Shukaku's fault. The beast's whispers, its demands, its shrieking, drunken voice blaring in his head — it had been endless chaos, confusion, and torment he'd had to suppress. "It was just Shukaku, right?"

Kankuro smiled wanly. "Sorry, ototo. This is all about men, women, and sex."

"Sex?" Gaara's head began to hurt; he didn't like the sounds of this. Things were getting complicated — more complicated than he liked. Could what Shukaku had done really have anything to do with sex? The possibility had occurred to him once when he was younger, but he'd dismissed it as impossible.

Kankuro steered him over to the bench, set him down, and then sat beside him. "Okay." He blushed again. "This is awkward, but I guess I'll have to explain a few things to you."

For five solid minutes, Gaara stared at his brother and listened to him speak, thinking that it was too bizarre to even be a nightmare. At the end of Kankuro's explanation, Gaara thought back to his dream. "But it was _Tsunade_. She's over thirty years older than I am, and she's the Hokage." He shook his head again, as though he could erase the dream from his brain. "Why _her_?"

A very red-faced Kankuro bit his lip, then exhaled in a long, deep sigh. "Well, probably because we talked about her all evening. I mean, your brain took the dancing and your thoughts about the upcoming ball and just used them." He stood and offered his hand. "Now, let's go take care of your, er, problem here." He gestured at the sheet.

Reaching up to rub one pounding temple, Gaara sighed as well, feeling overwhelmed, humiliated, and strangely defeated. "Right." He took his brother's hand and let him pull him to his feet.

Kankuro guided him out of the room and down the hallway toward Gaara's suite. "You might have a few of these dreams off and on over the next month or so, but don't let it get to you, okay?" His entire countenance was kind, reassuring. The punk persona was gone as though it'd never existed.

Gaara felt like a child in his care, which wasn't discomforting given his current state of mind, and he wondered where his brother had kept this piece of himself hidden. However, Kankuro's words distracted him from his thoughts. "_Months?_"

"It'll go away, I promise." Kankuro led him into the Kazekage suite and headed for the chest of drawers. "Which drawer has your PJs in it?"

Gaara remained at his side, his voice quiet. "The second one."

Kankuro opened the drawer and handed a new pair of PJs to him. "The first time this happened to me, I had to go to Father for help, of course. He unceremoniously — and with great irritation — did exactly what I'm getting ready to do for you." He chucked his thumb toward the bathroom; his voice remained kind and reassuring. "Clean up and change. While you're doing that, I'll change your sheets."

"But I'm . . ." Gaara let the sheet fall. "It's all . . ."

"I know, I know." Still his brother remained the soul of patience. "Just leave that sheet out here and toss the old PJs out the door when you're done." He paused. "If you want to take a quick shower, too, I'll wait."

Gaara's headache was threatening to explode his skull. "I think I might." He headed for the bathroom, dumping the sheet outside the door, and then closed the door behind him. He was beginning to feel unreal again, almost as though he were watching the motions of someone else as he stripped and stepped into the shower.

When he emerged several minutes later in his clean PJs and dumped the old ones with the sheet, he found Kankuro sitting on his bed waiting for him. An set of clean sheets graced the bed. "Thank you," Gaara said, feeling numb again.

"Hey, no problem, _jan_." Kankuro patted the spot beside him.

Gaara wandered over and sank on the mattress edge, then put his head in his hands.

Immediately, his brother's punk veneer was gone again. "It's okay," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Like I said earlier, this normally happens to boys when they're eleven to fourteen. It's just that since you didn't sleep or dream, you had to wait longer for the experience. But it is _totally_ normal. You're not sick or twisted, and it's not some remnant of Shukaku. Every guy goes through it."

Gaara nodded but left his face in his hands. He trusted his brother, believed what he said, but the numbness wouldn't leave. He'd never imagined sex and dating and all such things were so complicated. He'd always assumed people married because of that mystifying emotion called "love" and then made babies through a rather straightforward process he'd thought defined "sex." All these other details, initiations, social rituals, and bodily functions . . . Well, he'd never exactly had male friends to hang around, so he'd missed the whole story-swapping and bragging process Kankuro had mentioned during The Talk.

"I can't," he finally replied.

"Can't what?"

"I can't go," Gaara whispered through his fingers. "I can't dance with her." He was mortified, utterly humiliated to be acting so little like a Kage and to be unable to find his usual composure. He dropped his hands and glanced at his brother, struck with a sudden horrible thought. "What if I trip her in real life? Or what if I have some kind of sexual reaction to dancing with her? What if —"

Kankuro wrapped one arm around his shoulders and hugged him. "Hey, that's not going to happen, man. You don't think about Tsunade-hime in _that way_ when you're awake, despite her figure. And you'll be so preoccupied with getting the dance correct that you won't have time to think about anything else." He hugged him tighter. "And you can do this. I'm teaching you to dance, remember? I'll make sure you learn it perfectly."

For a moment, Gaara was distracted by the warm arm around him. Although he wasn't used to being touched, Kankuro's embrace made him feel safe, grounded. He sighed, closing his eyes. "I can't believe we're talking about this."

"Yeah, me neither." Kankuro chuckled. "But everyone has to ask someone, and I'm glad you chose to ask me."

Startled by Kankuro's easy response, Gaara opened his eyes again and gazed at his brother. "Really?" He glanced to the side, feeling awkward again. "I'm sorry, though. It's embarrassing. I didn't mean to put you through something like this. I can't even imagine having to go to Father for such a thing, though, so I have to say I'm glad it's you."

"Oh, yeah. Me, too." Kankuro cringed. "Our grandfather was actually the one who took me aside and explained it all. I don't even want to imagine what Father would have said. His reaction to having to get up and help me . . ." He sneered. "He finally told me to take care of it myself like a Real Man."

Gaara felt his eyes widen with surprise.

Kankuro blushed, but his embarrassment seemed tinged with anger. "He was _not_cool about it. Not that that should surprise you." He snorted. "He just told me to get over it."

Gaara felt a wave of anger rise in him. "But you said it's normal — it happens to all boys. How could he say that to you?"

As though shocked by Gaara's display of resentment, Kankuro blinked slowly and gave him a sad smile. "Because he was an ass. Since it happens to all boys, he thought I shouldn't be so embarrassed and unnerved." A streak of bitterness shot through his voice. "Shinobi don't show emotion in any situation, right?"

Gaara started to reply, only to realize how little like a shinobi he'd been acting all night. "Yeah."

Kankuro snorted. "That's bullshit." Although he kept one arm around Gaara's shoulders, he threw his other hand up in an impatient flick of dismissal. "What makes us protect our families, huh? Are we not supposed to care if a teammate is injured? What? We're not allowed to feel surprise or grief? That's just stupid." He turned and touched Gaara's cheek gently. "Should I not care about you because we're both shinobi? Well, I do. You're my brother, and no one's gonna stop me."

Gaara felt a tinge of warmth in his face again, but this time it was of an entirely different kind. He considered his brother's words for a moment. "That's basically what Naruto told me."

"Naruto was right." Kankuro smiled and lowered his hand. "And thanks to Naruto, I gained a brother."

For a long moment, Gaara felt suspended in time again, but instead of feeling numb or disconnected from reality, he felt oddly warm and safe. He nodded slowly, not wanting to lose the sensation.

"Don't be embarrassed with me. Ever," Kankuro said. "No matter how awkward the situation, I am here for you because you're my ototo." He wrapped his other arm around Gaara and hugged him outright.

Startled once again, Gaara hesitated, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around Kankuro's waist and leaned his head on his shoulder. However, after practicing dancing with his brother, the physical touch didn't seem so weird. In fact, it was comforting, and he even began to feel drowsy.

After a moment, Gaara forced himself to stir and mumbled into Kankuro's shirt. "They shouldn't let this happen."

Kankuro rubbed his back with one hand. "Who shouldn't let what happen?"

"The council. No. More. Young. Kazekages." He was mostly joking.

His brother caught his quiet humor and laughed.

The longer he leaned against Kankuro, the sleepier Gaara felt. "I didn't realize when I sought this position that I would be fighting with dancing and growing up rituals." He tightened his grip on his brother's waist. "But I suppose I'm going to have to go to the ball despite this complication, and therefore I have to keep practicing how to dance."

Kankuro continued to rub his back. "That'd be best."

Relaxing further under the warm touch, Gaara realized he was on the verge of falling asleep again. "I'm tired," he admitted, "but I don't want to sleep again."

"Don't worry." Kankuro tucked his head under his chin. "It's not likely to happen twice in one night."

Gaara slumped against him. "Really?" He felt like he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

"Really," Kankuro replied, still slowly rubbing his back.

Gaara faintly registered that his brother was trying to make him fall asleep on purpose. Somehow, that didn't bother him. Kankuro had been right: dancing had helped him feel a bit more comfortable with touch and affection. It was the last thought he had before consciousness drifted away from him.

* * *

><p>Unable to sleep, Kankuro stared at the ceiling. Unsurprisingly, Gaara had been so exhausted that he'd fallen asleep sitting up, and Kankuro had laid him down, tucking him in like a small child. His first impulse had, of course, been to leave Gaara to his rest, but the weight of what had occurred had frozen him to the floor. For a long moment, he'd gazed down at Gaara's sleeping face and the kanji burnt into his forehead, and he'd realized he couldn't leave. His brother had once again entrusted him with his care, and if he awakened and needed his nii-san again, then Kankuro wanted to be there. The reason didn't matter — dreams, nightmares, even a stomach virus. Kankuro's chance had come; his coveted role had been offered to him: brother.<p>

Mind made up, Kankuro had crawled into bed, staying close to the edge so as not to disturb Gaara in any way. The Kazekage suite had a king-sized bed, so there was plenty of space. However, sleep had not come. The enormity of the gift Kankuro had been given had mixed with the enormity of the responsibility it entailed, leaving him with insomnia and racing thoughts. In a sense, Gaara had entrusted him with the final piece of his childhood, or rather the final transition from childhood to adulthood. He had turned to Kankuro for help, listened to his wisdom, and allowed him to assist. However, Gaara had unknowingly allowed one thing more: he had permitted Kankuro to be himself — his true self. Kankuro had taken the risk and dropped his mask completely, and Gaara had accepted him.

A million memories paraded through Kankuro's mind: his father's sneer, his trainers' yells, and Baki's unsmiling stoicism. All the words were the same: _"Suck it up. Be a man. Focus on the kill. Show no mercy. Mission over team."_ Had Kankuro not chosen the puppet jutsu, had he not had a natural propensity to act, he suspected his true self would have been lost. But what he ultimately wanted from those he loved was exactly what he desired most to give, and he'd hidden that care deeply. He'd painted over it, copped an attitude, and hung a smirk on top. Just this once, though, he'd suspended the performance so completely he'd pulled Gaara to him and hugged him, and no words of censure had been forthcoming. Despite all his own confusion and reservations, Gaara had simply hugged back.

On one hand, Kankuro had been pleased with what this said for Gaara's chances of adapting and growing. On the other hand, he was also pleased with what it said for his own chance to reach out. What he wasn't sure of, however, was how far Gaara would let him carry the role. Gaara was the Kazekage, after all. In the end, he didn't need anyone's protection. _Be content with whatever you get, _he told himself sternly. It was a hard thing to tell himself, though, when he knew he had more to give.

And one more issue remained: Kankuro didn't want Temari to be left behind. He wouldn't grasp his own happiness only to leave her on the outside looking in, but at the same time, he wasn't in charge of her relationship with Gaara. They had to navigate that themselves.

It was a problem.

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><p><em>AN: When we consider the oddness of Gaara's situation, Darkhelmetj and I inevitably end up getting him into the worst, most complicated (and embarrassing) situations, but we wanted to depart from the usual situation of Gaara's having violent nightmares and try something different this time._

_Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing this story, has faved it, and/or has put an alert on it. I always appreciate your feedback, and I hope you're having fun with this bizarre and twisted little tale._

_For those who remember when I posted the first time around, you'll note I'm at the end of the original material. All the chapters that follow will be newly converted, although I'll do my best to stick to the style that I had back in 2008._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

From the bench against the dojo wall, Gaara sat watching the orange rays of the setting sun stretch across the wooden floor as though they sought to reach his feet. He'd awakened that morning to find Kankuro sprawled on the bed beside him, sleeping peacefully. Gaara had been surprised to find him still there, although not discomforted. What embarrassed him was the incident that had required Kankuro's presence.

The dojo door slid open, and following tradition, Kankuro kicked off his sandals and bowed before stepping into the room. Once again, he was dressed in simple black clothes and was sans face paint, which was a sure sign he'd returned from his mission early that day.

"Yo," Kankuro called, crossing the floor. "You ready to practice again?"

He seemed normal, Gaara thought, as though the bizarre incident of the previous night had never occurred. Relieved, he nodded and joined his brother on the dojo floor; he wanted to forget the incident as quickly as possible.

"Okay." Kankuro stepped closer, closing the distance between them to one appropriate for dancing. "Do you wanna lead the first round, or do you want me to?"

Gaara watched Kankuro's business-like expression, the demeanor of a sensei, and felt his own stubbornness rise to the occasion. "No. I'll lead."

Kankuro cocked a half-grin at him. "That's the spirit." He flung one hand outward in a begin-at-will gesture.

Thinking back on the previous day, Gaara took his brother's hand and put his other hand on his shoulder. "Like this?"

"Yeah, if I were leading, but you said you would." Despite the 'sensei' tone of voice, Kankuro seemed relaxed, the veritable soul of patience. "And don't forget to bow first."

Knowing he had to look frazzled, Gaara took a deep breath and stepped away. He bowed, waited for Kankuro to do the same, then clasped his brother's hand and put his hand on his waist. "This?"

"Yep." Kankuro rested his hand on Gaara's shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "Go ahead. I've already proven I can follow your lead."

Gaara felt his brow furrow in concentration. "All right." He stepped to the right, beginning the box step, and his brother moved with him as promised. He focused on the steps for two rounds, then sighed. "Sorry about last night." He wanted to forget what had happened, but he couldn't dismiss the feeling that he'd overburdened Kankuro. "I wasn't — I mean, I lost control."

"No need to apologize, _jan_." Kankuro shrugged one shoulder faintly. "I didn't handle it any better when it happened to me."

Gaara glanced at their feet, but realizing he was supposed to maintain eye contact, he met Kankuro's gaze again. "I know. But I don't like losing control."

"I don't know many people who do." Kankuro paused as they started a fourth round of the dance. "But I guess you'd be less comfortable with it than most people thanks to having to control Shukaku for all that time." He squeezed the hand he held. "It's okay, though. You can let go around me. I don't mind."

Gaara considered that offer for several moments before nodding. Although he didn't feel his brother fully understood, he knew Kankuro would be patient.

After a pause, Kankuro fell back into sensei-mode. "You're doing well remembering all the steps, but you need to try to relax a bit. I mean, you need to maintain good posture, sure, but you don't need to be stiff or tense."

"I don't know if I can do that." Gaara sighed in mild irritation. "I might be able to with you, but it's different with other people. I don't want to relax around them." He summoned his Unflappable Kazekage Face. "There. Better?"

Kankuro laughed. "Now you look like you could just as easily be eating a plate of sawdust as tempura." He cocked his head, his lingering grin showing he was half-teasing. "Being expressionless isn't really the answer, although it's better than scaring your dancing partner with a battle-ready look."

Gaara glowered at his brother. "You mean like this?" This won him another peal of laughter from Kankuro, and he sighed once again. "I don't know what I'm supposed to look like. If I don't feel relaxed, how am I supposed to look relaxed?"

Kankuro halted them and released his brother. "Okay, adopt the Kazekage Look for now if you like, but let's work on getting you to relax." He raised an eyebrow. "So  
><em>why<em> don't you want to relax around others?"

A legitimate question. Gaara paused and pondered the issue. "I suppose I don't trust them," he replied quietly. "On some level, I still expect them to —" His words died a dozen identical memories flashed through his mind: kids running away from him screaming, adults backing away in fear, and shinobi turning their backs as he passed them on the street. He frowned to himself. "I don't like being around people I don't know. I don't trust people who I've never met." He sighed, well aware that his attitude made it more difficult for him to befriend new people. The precious people in his life were mostly, although not all, people he'd known before his attitude change.

"I guess that makes sense, given your past." Kankuro paused. "But remember this is the Hokage. We may not know her personally, but we do know we can trust her. For the sake of the dance, try to keep that in mind."

Gaara nodded slowly. "I suppose. I keep forgetting it's the Hokage I will be dancing with." He dropped his voice, adding in a murmur, "Although I'd also like to forget that as long as possible."

"Okay." Kankuro's brow furrowed, as though he were confused as to why Gaara was being so resistant. "Well, let's start again, and try to relax — for me."

"All right." Gaara steeled himself, resolving to do so for his brother's sake.

Kankuro waved one hand through the air. "By your lead."

Taking a deep breath, Gaara forced his irritation down; he really did want to do it for his brother. He took Kankuro's hand, put his hand on his waist, and began the dance again. He could tell from Kankuro's slightly raised eyebrow, though, that he could sense how stiff and irritated Gaara was. With effort, Gaara tried to relax, to fall into himself like he had the previous night, and he even managed to clear his mind. However, it only made him trip over Kankuro's feet because he wasn't paying enough attention. The stiffness in his body was better for one night's sleep, but it wasn't entirely gone. "Damn it!"

"I think you're almost to the point where you're trying too hard. We need to do something to help you relax, I guess." Kankuro frowned, clearly pondering the situation. "Why don't we try to address the problem more directly again? If I understand you, then the real issue has to do with letting people get close to you or touch you, right?"

Feeling an impending headache shoot through his skull, Gaara nodded. "I think so. It's not . . . naturally comforting. At least in this situation."

"Well, then —" Kankuro paused abruptly, as though an idea had hit him. A faint blush tinted his cheeks, and his closed one eye, clearly unsure of what he was going to say next. "There is another type of dancing that is not as formal or complicated as the box step. Would you like to try it instead? It won't help you practice ballroom dancing, but it'll help you practice dancing in general."

Gaara found his attention captured on one simple detail. "But it's easier?"

"Much easier, actually."

"Good." With hooded eyes, Gaara stared at his brother. "Maybe I can manage it. What are the steps?"

Still blushing, Kankuro shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, I should warn you first that it'll definitely work on your ability to . . . tolerate being touched. Is that okay?"

Gaara was glad that Kankuro was at least upfront about it. "Yeah, I suppose." He sighed once more, resigning himself to his fate. "This shouldn't be so difficult. Go ahead. Try it." His tone was less than enthusiastic.

"Okay." This time, Kankuro took a deep breath, clearly psyching himself up. He stepped very close to Gaara, close enough to hug him. "All right, put both your hands on my shoulders. Really, for the sake of making it easier on yourself, just put your arms around my shoulders so you hands nearly touch behind my neck."

Unconsciously mirroring Kankuro, Gaara briefly closed his eyes and took an extended, deep breath, letting it out very slowly. After a pause, he gingerly placed his arms around his brother's shoulders.

"Good. Now my hands go here." Kankuro wrapped his arms around Gaara's waist, then his tone became sensei-like again. "Okay. I don't know of any official name for this dance. Most people just call it slow dancing."

Gaara fought to hide his reaction, but he couldn't. He rolled his eyes. "I. Hate. Touching. People." He twitched a bit, unable to stop a faint shudder.

Flinching, Kankuro stared past Gaara's shoulder. "I know. But you might, like, be glad you know how to do this someday."

Feeling his brother tense slightly, Gaara internally cringed. "I . . ." He paused, realizing just how far out his brother had put himself and how Kankuro had likely interpreted his words. "That wasn't directed at you, specifically. I'm sorry." His voice grew quiet as he considered how comforting Kankuro's affection had been the previous night. "Sometimes it's okay."

"Okay." Kankuro seemed to brush past the explanation, his gaze still trained on the wall behind Gaara. "Now we're going to do something really simple: we're just going to sway back and forth, kinda dragging our feet in a slow circle as we do. Just follow me; it's easy. Ready?"

Struck with a twinge of guilt, Gaara pulled himself together, thinking he was giving his brother a hard time when Kankuro was only trying to help him. "Yeah." He decided to try to be a better student.

Relaxing only marginally, Kankuro nodded. "We'll be moving to my right." He began swaying in a slow, lazy, circular pattern, guiding Gaara along with him.

After a few minutes, Gaara was struck by the familiarity of the movement. "This looks like . . ." He felt the amusement leaking onto his face. "I've seen this before."

Kankuro finally focused on him, looking curious. "Really?"

Gaara snickered, deciding he'd finally found a way to make fun of dancing that was genuinely funny. "Yes. When we assisted the Konoha ninja several years ago, I came to the aid of Rock Lee." He waited to see Kankuro's reaction, and getting none, he continued. "And he was slightly intoxicated."

"_Intoxicated?_" Kankuro sounded incredulous.

Gaara was lost in his memories, visualizing Lee stumbling around dragging his feet; he couldn't help a snort of laughter.

Kankuro raised one eyebrow, apparently unsure how to feel about this announcement. "Oh . . . so my dancing skills remind you of a drunk?"

"I —" Gaara realized he'd stuck his foot in his mouth, or rather shoved it in. "I didn't mean you in particular." He looked down at their arms. "Just this dance in general." He sighed, feeling utterly defeated. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong." How many times was he going to insult or hurt his brother in one day?

A grin worked its way to Kankuro's lips, and he chuckled faintly. "I guess you mean the swaying. But yeah, I hope we're more graceful than a drunken Lee-kun."

"Apparently it was Tsunade-sama's fault." Gaara smiled as well, only to think about Tsunade again and frown. Then he remembered Temari's words from the previous day. "Temari said that men and women dance in order to fall in love."

"Well, in a sense." Kankuro shrugged faintly. "Two people who are interested in each other would dance this way to try to get to know each other better, and two people who were already dating or even married would dance this way as a sign of affection. Or, actually, it would be more like this." He pulled Gaara against his chest, embracing him completely. "And this," he added, reaching up briefly to lay Gaara's head against his shoulder.

Feeling his eyes widen, Gaara paused, overwhelmed by the warm sensation. "But . . ." The confusion hit him squarely. "You're my brother."

"Oh, it's just a demonstration." Kankuro's tone was offhand. "It's not anything we'd want someone to walk in on, I admit, but someone has to teach you how to dance." His tone grew more serious, soft. "And I do care for you . . . in a familial sense."

As his cheeks grew warm, Gaara felt oddly touched by Kankuro's statement as well as by the hug that was hidden inside the dancing. "I'm . . ." He paused, realizing his voice had wavered slightly; no one had come out and said such a thing to him before. Not and meant it. "I'm glad." He abruptly shut up, knowing he'd just blurted out something silly and embarrassing.

"I'm glad that you're glad." Kankuro didn't seem to find it silly. "It's nice to finally have you as my little brother."

Gaara nodded against Kankuro's shoulder, then let his head rest there. "You make it seem straightforward," he admitted quietly. "It makes so much more sense when I'm around you or Temari. But . . ." He paused, unsure how to vocalize his confusion and questions concerning love. "It doesn't around other people. It only makes sense in the context of wanting to protect the village."

"Of course I make it seem straightforward." Kankuro snorted. "I speak my mind whether I should or not. I'm not exactly good at keeping my opinions to myself. But, yeah, most people find it harder to talk about this stuff with, say, a girlfriend."

Gaara frowned, feeling downcast. "It makes no sense to me." He hesitated, beginning to realize that everything they'd been talking about was interconnected, and he didn't understand most of it. He wondered if his love would ever extend beyond his immediate family and his generalized commitment to protecting the village. "It's all so complicated," he added in a whisper.

"Yes, very," Kankuro said bluntly, leaning back in order to make Gaara meet his gaze. "But you know what? You're not supposed to have it all figured out yet. You might be the Kazekage, but you're still just 15. _No one_ understands this stuff at 15. Or 17. Hell, most people send their lives figuring it out piece by piece, and some of them never get it. It's not weird to take time. It's just the way love works. Or the romantic kind, anyway."

Gaara nodded and halted their dance, glancing toward the benches. More than learning to dance, he wanted to discuss this concept that had tortured him in various forms since he was six.

Kankuro watched him closely, trying to figure out what his brother was thinking. Although he'd done his best to be laidback and supportive, he had to admit that Gaara's questions and reactions over the last two days had kept him mission-alert. However, since he considered it partially his fault that his brother knew little about love and affection, he was willing to sacrifice any amount of energy, sleep, or comfort to see Gaara through this situation. "You want to rest?" he guessed, noticing the way his brother eyed the benches.

Gaara shrugged.

Wondering if his fate was to be that of a mind-reader, Kankuro decided the shrug of a 15-year-old was tantamount to a yes. "Let's sit down for a while." He tugged Gaara over to the bench, and his brother followed willingly enough.

Sitting by Kankuro on the bench, Gaara bent down and leaned his elbows on his knees. "You understand it, don't you?"

Stunned, Kankuro wondered for a moment what to say. "Let me explain something to you." He stared out at the dojo where his father, grandfather, and countless trainers had spent days beating every sign of weakness out of Temari and him. They'd learned to take kicks to the head with a smile; they'd learned to stand up when their entire bodies were shaking so badly their knees literally knocked together. There had been days when their knuckles were so busted that they'd had to eat dinner with their fingers, and their lips had been so split and swollen that the food had dribbled back out of their mouths. It had made them tough, fearless warriors, children strong enough to claim the Kazekage as their father. _ "Don't disappointment me"_ had slowly become _"You didn't disappoint me,"_ but it never had been anything more.

It had been a world without love.

"Our father didn't love Temari or me anymore than he did you." The words came out more quietly than Kankuro intended. They were hard to say, harder than he would've imagined. "If Temari and I hadn't been so close in age — hadn't studied and trained together all day every day — we would've probably never figured out what familial love is, much less been figured out how to . . . to show it to you." He blushed miserably. No matter how ruthlessly he pushed himself to show Gaara he was cared for, dropping his punk mask never got easier. Impulsively, he reached out and hugged Gaara to him, letting his actions speak for him. That was proving a little less difficult, at least. "So, no. I don't have any great insight into love. I've dated a bit, sure, but it took me years just to . . . to realize I wanted to protect you."

"I'm glad you figured it out," Gaara said quietly, leaning against his chest.

Although part of him rejoiced in the fact Gaara accepted his affection, Kankuro still frowned to himself, completely unable to explain just how much he wanted to protect his siblings. In his heart, he wanted to take his father's place and take care of his family, but he knew it couldn't really work that way. They were all too close in age, and Temari and he were close in strength, while Gaara was even stronger. The role he ultimately wanted was one he didn't feel like he could have.

Gaara's brow furrowed as he continued. "Dating is . . ." He sounded more like he was talking to himself. "I've watched other people. They spend time with each other. They call it dating, and they claim to love each other. But they don't." He looked down, his gaze falling to the floor. "And dating involves other things. I understand that. Because when people date they . . ." He trailed off again, clearly disturbed by something.

Listening quietly, Kankuro was struck for the second time in two days by just how painfully Gaara's life had pulled together. He'd recreated himself successfully, far more so than anyone could have imagined, but it didn't erase the suffering that had gone with it. Without anyone to love him, hug him, hold him, or show him interest and affection, Gaara seemed to find simple touch bizarre and sexual things nearly incomprehensible.

"But that can't be love," Gaara said. "Or, if it is, I don't want it. Because you and Temari are my family. And I . . ." He cringed, clearly struggling with his words and almost inaudible. "I care for you. Both of you. You're precious to me."

Kankuro's breath froze in his lungs, his shock so great that he felt his pulse in his temples. The blood rushed into his ears, deafening him for a moment until he inhaled slowly, trying to stave off the crashing wave of joy that followed the shock. _He said it back,_ Kankuro thought, stunned and happy. _He said we're precious._

Gaara had continued, apparently unaware of his brother's elation. "But it's different from what I've seen. So love can't be the same, then? It's not equal? Or . . ." He sighed abruptly, obviously totally perplexed.

As he stared at the shiny, hardwood floor, Kankuro did his best to refocus his attention and follow his brother's stilted speech. He thought back to when he rushed after Gaara to try to save him, without any backup, and nearly died. No matter how stupid the elders considered his actions, he would do it again and again if he had to. "The greatest expression of love is the willingness to die to save another person," he said slowly, trying to figure out how to explain it all. "But there are various stages of romantic love, called 'falling in love.' It's a progression from just enjoying someone's company to wanting to spend the rest of your life with that person. And different situations — familial versus romantic, for example — bring up different versions of the feeling of love." He sighed, remembering a particularly nasty break up he'd suffered. "Let me give you some free advice, though. You can't love someone if you don't really _know_ them. It's not about how damn hot she is or how great the sex is. This much I figured out the hard way. Like, the super hard way." He occasionally wondered if the metaphorical stab wound in his back was still bleeding.

Frowning, Gaara glanced up at him. "I guess that makes sense." He shifted against him, as though he wanted to offer his brother comfort somehow. "So it's all the same? Like different kinds of one emotion?"

"Yes and no." Kankuro wondered how he could explain something that he both did and didn't understand, but in that moment, he felt like a brother, father, and sensei. He refused to fail his role. "It's like this: if a brother loves his brother, he'll die to save him. If parents love their children, they'll die to save them. If a husband loves his wife, he'll die to save her. In that sense, love is the same. But . . ." He paused, tripping as his punk mask fought against his sensei act. Sometimes he wondered if he might lose himself in his own multilayered performances. To a certain extent, it was a valid question.

However, over time Kankuro had realized that when he became overbalanced, he could center himself on his siblings. Or, more specifically, he could focus on what he wanted to accomplish for his family. He grounded himself in his determination to answer Gaara's question well. "But the difference is in the expression of love, I guess," he continued. "If you love your siblings or your kids, you have the urge to hug or kiss them." He tightened his arm around Gaara in demonstration. "But with your wife . . . well, when you're attracted to someone or you're in love with her, you want to —" He paused, almost reverting to typical guy talk, but he found himself unable to speak crassly with his brother. Gaara took the issue so seriously, Kankuro felt compelled to match his attitude. "— to have sex." It was just like the previous night. Gaara was too confused and concerned for Kankuro to act macho and take the easy way out.

Gaara nodded. "Okay. But how do you know? Do you dream about them?" His eyes widened. "Or does it happen every time? What if you think one thing, but you only end up being friends?" His brow furrowed; he seemed to be having monstrous difficulty articulating all his questions and thoughts.

Kankuro cringed. _Good question._"Well, that's the part everyone struggles with. Sometimes they hit it off and fall in love. Sometimes they find they don't really get along and break up, and sometimes they just end up being friends instead. And, yeah, you probably will dream about them, but not necessarily in the way you did last night."

Sitting up straight again, Gaara pulled one foot up to the bench, bending his leg and resting his head on his knee. "I wouldn't even know where to begin. I'd never thought about this before." His voice wasn't much more than a whisper. "I don't even know if anyone else would be . . ." He trailed off, frowning.

"Interested in you?" Kankuro found the question to be deeply ironic.

Gaara wrapped his arms around his leg and squeezed it. "I would be expected to, though, wouldn't I? As Kazekage. I suspect Father was . . . the way he spoke of Mom, I assumed he was encouraged to marry her."

Kankuro couldn't deny that. "At some point, probably when you're in your mid-20s, people will expect you to start searching for a wife, yeah. In fact, as soon as you come of age, you might find fathers introducing their daughters to you in the hopes that you'll date them." He paused, wondering if they might start even before Gaara was legally an adult. He hoped not. "But no one is going to place that kind of pressure on you any time soon." Surely, since Gaara was only 15, they'd at least wait a few more years. "And, well, it's certainly nothing you need to worry about. I know you don't pay attention to it, but several of the girls in this town have crushes on you. You have your own fan club full of squealing girls." Kankuro sometimes wondered why women always went for the silent, cool, loner types. Was it the mystery? Did they seem hard to get? It was weird and confusing.

Gaara blushed. "Like the ones who will want to dance with me at the ball? Perhaps . . ." He glanced at his brother. "Perhaps we should practice again."

Much amused, Kankuro stood and offered his hand. "Okay. Sounds like a good idea." He had no idea if he were explaining things well or helping Gaara with these concepts at all, but at least he was sure he could assist with the dancing.

Standing as well, Gaara took his hand almost absently, his mind stuck on the swooning girls who he had, in fact, noticed. He didn't understand them, but he had noticed the way they followed him around and complimented him. Realizing these thoughts were not helping, he ended up staring at the hardwood floor as they stepped away from the benches.

Gaara paused, unsure which dance Kankuro wanted him to practice, but he wrapped his arms around Kankuro's neck without waiting for him to speak. Kankuro hesitated, apparently surprised, then relaxed and encircled his waist with his arms.

"Okay," Kankuro said, his voice far softer than usual. The effect helped Gaara to relax. "Just sway again."

Gaara nodded and closed his eyes. Although he really thought dancing was stupid, he leaned his head on Kankuro's shoulder and began to shift his feet. As Kankuro held him close and guided them in the slow, lazy circles, Gaara wondered briefly if he would ever trust someone else the same way he trusted Kankuro in that moment. If so, would it feel the same? Would he be able to find this thing called love with someone outside his family? Would he find it with a woman and create a family of his own?

After only a few minutes, someone knocked on the dojo door, and Temari's voice pierced the wood. "Hey! You guys in there?"

Gaara and Kankuro both jumped as though startled out of a semi-dream state. Gaara took a deep breath and released his brother, willing his heart rate down.

Kankuro released him as well, gazing toward the door with a frown of blatant suspicion. "Yeah, we're here. Come on in."

Sliding open the door, Temari smiled at them, her face a picture of angelic innocence. "I thought I should check on your progress." She paused, slipping off her sandals and bowing herself into the dojo. "How's it going?"

Gaara put on his Unflappable Kazekage Face for composure. "Fine." He hoped he wasn't lying.

Temari's smile turned mischievous. "Then you won't mind showing me by dancing with me."

"Which —" Gaara stopped himself before he asked which dance. With a flash of insight, he realized that she'd seen them dancing through the window. He remembered what Kankuro had said about its being better if no one saw them practicing the slow dance, and he wondered what she made of it. "Which . . . would be a pleasure," he finished, deadpan.

Although Temari cocked an eyebrow at him, she didn't remark on his unusual phrasing. "Okay, then. Do you want me to lead the first round, or are you ready to lead?"

Stopping to consider this, Gaara felt more confident than he had before, and he nodded to himself. "I'll lead."

"Excellent." Temari walked up to him and stopped at the appropriate distance. "Shall we begin?" She curtsied.

Kankuro backed away, giving them plenty of room, and retreated to the benches.

"Let's." Gaara bowed and gave her a slight, coy smile.

Temari grinned as though she thought it would be fun and extended her hands to him.

Taking her hands, Gaara mentally made note of the steps; he found he remembered them better now that he wasn't frustrated and totally against dancing. Temari settled one hand on his shoulder and firmly returned his clasp with the other. Gaara rested his hand on her waist, paused to be sure she was ready, then stepped to the side. To his surprise, the movement felt more natural.

Temari followed his lead with apparent ease. "Wow, you really have learned quickly." She seemed impressed.

Gaara tried to mask his pride at her comment, but he suspected he didn't quite succeed. He felt a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Kankuro was helpful." He paused, realizing the truth of the statement. "He taught me quite a few things." From the corner of his vision, he saw his brother smile with obvious pleasure and pride.

"Good." Temari's grin faded into a sad smile. "He was always better at . . . this . . . than I was."

Remembering what Kankuro said earlier about Temari, Gaara felt he'd stuck his foot in his mouth again. "He was just preparing me so you could teach me the fine details." He realized with a certain mixture of horror and relief that he'd managed to learn political BS tactics.

Temari snorted. "That's kind of you to say, I guess, but the truth is I can't expand upon anything he's taught you."

Gaara's eyes twinkled slightly, although he kept his expression neutral. "I don't know about that. I suspect that Kankuro can't quite give me the same experience you can." He paused a beat. "He's weighted slightly differently."

Looking both surprised and amused, Temari laughed. "I guess that's true enough." Her grin returned, and she relaxed, becoming more graceful.

Gaara permitted himself to smile and thought that maybe, just maybe, the gala wouldn't be so bad . . . as long as Temari would dance with him.

* * *

><p><em>AN: And on to the ball . . ._

_Let me give a special shout out to Jkl and Tammy for their reviews. Thank you!_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: For those not up on Chinese fashion, a chi pao is also known as a cheongsam or mandarin gown — those beautiful, form-fitting Chinese dresses._

_Hi, Tammy! Thank you!_

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

Seated at one end of a banquet table, Gaara stared around the Konoha Recreational Hall, taking in the massive crowd. In addition to the 14-person table Gaara occupied, dozens of smaller round tables lined the edges of the room. A stage, complete with a 20-piece orchestra, occupied the far wall, and quiet music swelled under the hum of voices. In the center of the room, bared for the world to see, was Gaara's mortal enemy: the empty ballroom floor. It was hardwood and shiny under the candelabra, its silent presence seeming to mock him. Wondering if he should punish the woman responsible for his torture, Gaara glanced down the table at Tsunade, who was chatting with Shizune. Given that four of the elder councilmen from Suna occupied the center of the table, Gaara assumed that the unfamiliar people with them were various Konoha bigwigs. Tsunade had introduced them, just as Gaara had introduced his councilmen, but Gaara remembered faces before names.

Sitting on either side of Gaara, acting as bulwarks, were Temari and Kankuro. Even Gaara had to admit his siblings cleaned up well. Temari wore a dark teal chi pao that flared at out at her knees; a golden peacock pattern raced through the material, making it shimmer. Matching teal ribbons adorned her ponytails, with three tiny teal roses pinned into the hair at her right temple. Like Gaara, Kankuro wore a black tuxedo with a stain lapel. As promised, both the cut of the jacket and the dress shirt were frill-free. Since neither Gaara nor Kankuro had brought a date, both had matched their bow ties and handkerchiefs to Temari's gown, given that colored accessories were apparently in style that season. The spot of color drew attention to Kankuro's eyes, which were green like his siblings', only darker. It was a detail often overpowered by his face paint, which Kankuro had abandoned for the night.

Although both his siblings had complimented his appearance earlier, Gaara still found the outfits — as well as the entire ordeal — annoying at best. With a soft sigh, he jabbed his dinner with his chopsticks, trying and failing to work up an appetite.

Temari glanced at him with dismay. "Take it easy," she whispered. "You don't want to appear disrespectful. Besides, you'll be fine."

"In what way?" Gaara muttered, spearing a bite of fish and sticking it in his mouth. With his free hand, he tugged at the neck of his tuxedo, which was done up tightly. "Are these clothes supposed to suffocate their victims?"

Kankuro tugged at his own neck. "It would make an effective weapon, I guess. But remember it's only for a few hours."

_A few hours in which I can make a total fool out of myself,_ Gaara thought, frowning.

"I meant about the dance," Temari replied, answering Gaara's initial question. "That's what you're thinking about, right? You and Kankuro practiced for hours, and you practiced with me five times. I can vouch for the fact that you learned to dance well."

Sighing again, Gaara nodded. Since he ultimately felt that dancing was stupid, he was irritated by being there, but he wanted to subdue the feeling so as not to make an ass of himself. "I wonder when Tsunade-sama will decide to start this." He dropped his voice. "I hope it's before she's had anything to drink."

Kankuro cringed. "Yeah, hopefully."

"She's almost done eating, so I'm guessing soon." Temari glanced down the table.

Gaara set down his chopsticks. "Why a ball?" he found himself asking once again. Normally, he didn't bother to complain, but in this case he couldn't entirely restrain his discomfort.

Temari frowned. "Who knows? Just think of it as your diplomatic duty."

"And I agree with Temari." Kankuro gave him a supportive smile. "You're going to be fine."

Gaara nodded, steeling himself. Then he noticed that Tsunade had stood and was heading his direction; his eyes grew wide then narrowed as he took in her outfit: a midnight-blue, satin evening gown. The bodice and straps had sequins, which seemed appropriate; however, the neck is cut in a low **V**. "What is she _wearing_?"

Temari glanced as Tsunade drew closer. "Uh . . . well, it _is_ pretty."

"It draws attention to her assets," Kankuro said, a blush highlighting his cheekbones.

Gaara remained deadpan. "I can see that." He fought off a blush, but he didn't entirely succeed.

"Just keep your eyes on your dance partner's face." Kankuro grimaced.

Temari shook her head but didn't goad her youngest brother.

Gaara took a deep, deep breath and told himself that it was just like a mission. "A-rank mission. Dance with the Hokage." He pushed himself to his feet and walked around the table towards Tsunade; he really wanted to get it over with.

Tsunade met him halfway and grinned. "Should we kick off this thing?"

Gaara nodded and did his best to sound enthusiastic, although he didn't quite succeed. He could smell a whiff of sake on her. "Yes. Let's."

After they entered the dance floor, Tsunade clapped her hands once to draw everyone's attention. The musicians had already stopped playing when they saw her stand, so the room grew silent. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for us to move on the best part of the night." She gestured to the conductor of the musicians. "Adachi Jiro is our conductor tonight for Konoha's best chamber orchestra. Please give him and our musicians a round of applause." She paused as everyone clapped. "Now let us begin!"

From the corner of his vision, Gaara saw the orchestra lift their instruments, but he became distracted by the realization that everyone was staring at him. He put on his best "I'm official" face, turned to Tsunade, and bowed.

Tsunade smiled politely and curtsied.

Gaara raised one nonexistent eyebrow at how utterly innocent and ladylike Tsunade managed to act when she needed to; he decided that he couldn't let her one-up him. "May I have this dance?" He offered a hand, only to freeze momentarily as a chorus of "Awwww!" emanated from the corner where the young Suna crowd sat.

For a strange moment, Gaara was very, very afraid to glance over his shoulder to where the herd of Suna genin and young chuunin kunoichi sat.

Tsunade seemed not to notice the audience. "Most certainly." She took his hand.

Gaara lifted their hands and placed his other hand on her waist as she settled hers on his shoulder. He leaned in closer to Tsunade, turning his head to the side so he wasn't staring at her breasts. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he muttered through clenched teeth, not moving his lips so that no one could read them.

Tsunade snickered. "I arranged this whole thing just to see you dance." She grinned at him.

Trying to keep his expression neutral — and wondering if he failed — Gaara took a step with the music, noticing with some horror that his body felt oddly disconnected from him. He tried not to over-think it. "Perhaps I should warn you that my capacity for revenge is limitless," he said, deadpan. Somehow it seemed easier to focus on her words and return her playful jab.

"No need." Tsunade simply grinned wider as she followed his steps. "I really did this for the morale of my people, and to be honest, I _hate _to dance — in a formal way, that is." She crinkled her nose in half-feigned disgust. "I've spent the last week practicing with Asuma. Gai offered to practice with me as well, but I was a bit afraid of his . . . enthusiasm."

Although he didn't know who this Asuma person was, Gaara remembered that jonin Gai easily enough. He almost felt sympathy, but not quite. "I might consider us even then." He offered up a prayer of thanks that they hadn't hit anything yet and was glad the ballroom floor was large enough to keep them away from the tables and other such articles of death and destruction. "I asked Temari."

"Your sister?" Tsunade sounded surprised. "I figured she'd be about as inclined to ballroom dance as I am, which is to say not at all."

Gaara paused, knowing that it was really Kankuro who taught him. "Well . . ." He looked down to avoid her gaze and ended up looking right at her cleavage; he closed his eyes, took yet another deep breath, and looked back up. "It was Kankuro," he whispered quickly. "And if you tell anyone I said that, I _will _kill you." He found himself unable to pass up another jab. "It will be slow and terrible."

Tsunade glanced down at her own breasts, looked at him, and raised one eyebrow. A wicked smile bent up the corners of her lips, but she didn't say anything. "Tell?" she echoed, the picture of innocence once again. "Your secret dies with me."

Realizing that Tsunade had caught his look, Gaara blushed and nearly forgot which step he was on in the dance. His first impulse was to stare at his feet, but that would only make him look down her dress again. _ I'd hoped I could avoid that mistake,_ he thought, mortified.

"You know, that actually makes a certain amount of sense," Tsunade continued, apparently unaware of Gaara's inner horror. "Puppeteers control others' bodies, and they do it with grace and ease. Somehow, I'm not surprised that your brother would be an excellent dancer and good at teaching someone else to dance."

Vaguely, Gaara realized she was right. "That's true." He glanced to the side briefly, wondering if he should apologize for accidentally peeking at her; however, all that accomplished was reminding him of his huge audience. "That wasn't my intent," he managed to grind out.

"It was an accident." Tsunade sounded flippant. "Unlike Jiraiya, you're not a pervert." She frowned faintly. "Besides, it's my fault for not trying on the dress again after the alternations were done. It doesn't fit me quite right."

Thinking that was the understatement of the decade, Gaara nodded faintly and desperately searched for a way to change the topic.

Tsunade smirked. "I suppose now wouldn't be the time to tell you that you look handsome tonight, but then again, kind repays kind."

Apparently the Hokage couldn't pass up another jab, either. Gaara's eyes widened, and he couldn't think of anything to say at first. His ears felt hot, but the sensation was entirely different than any of the previous ones. "I'm considering doing something different for Suna's Founding Day. Maybe . . ." He paused, pondering what his next jab should be. "A desert trek for the Hokage. Or a ninja death match." A coy grin teased his lips. "How about all of Suna against the Hokage?"

Tsunade laughed easily, clearly amused.

"Laugh all you want." Gaara cocked his eyebrow again, remaining utterly deadpan. "I might arrange it."

"It's good to see the Fifth Kazekage has such a devilish sense of humor hidden behind that stoicism." Tsunade grinned again. "Maybe I'll bet on the outcome of a Kazekage vs. Hokage match." She frowned abruptly. "Then again, if I bet on myself, I'll lose."

"Either way, don't expect to win." With considerable shock, Gaara realized he'd marginally relaxed, and it occurred to him that he'd failed to take Tsunade's personality into the mix. Perhaps because of the new and steadfast nature of the alliance — indeed, friendship — between Konoha and Suna, Gaara found that he did in fact trust the legendary sannin. And it didn't hurt that she was obviously in a great mood; it gave him something to respond to. Most surprising of all, they had a certain chemistry between them. Not a sexual one, Gaara was sure, but maybe one of an older sister and younger brother. They'd immediately fallen into picking on each other in a teasing way.

Tsunade simply laughed again. "You're quite a punk." The words were said with a smile. "You reminded me of someone else just now, so I'll take that bet."

Suspecting he'd been compared to Naruto, Gaara gave her half a smile. "I'll hold you to that." With great relief, he realized the song was winding down. He finished the rotation they were on; then as the song ended, he bowed to her again.

Tsunade curtsied once more as well. "Thank you for the dance." She turned to the now silent room. "Everyone, now!"

As the musicians struck up the next song, people streamed out onto the floor, and Gaara used the cover of the movement to head toward his seat.

Kankuro was immediately at Gaara's side. "You did great."

Gaara reached up a hand and wiped between his eyes. "This is marginally encouraging." He flicked away the sweat, hit suddenly with the aftershock of several minutes' worth of repressed stress. He offered up a heartfelt prayer of deep gratitude that he had managed to end the dance without tripping either Tsunade or himself.

Temari was suddenly at his other side. "Well, it should be. You looked like you'd been dancing all your life."

"That's because he had such an awesome sensei." Kankuro grinned at them both, clearly teasing.

Gaara inwardly smiled at his siblings' bantering, realizing he'd unconsciously modeled his repartee with Tsunade upon it. "I owe you both my thanks."

Kankuro squeezed his shoulder. "No problem, _jan_."

"Anytime," Temari chimed in.

Before Gaara could speak further, he felt a chill race up his spine. He glanced over his shoulder, and for a strange, strange moment, he thought he saw a sea of glowing, yellow eyes peering at him from the corner. Deeply disturbed given that he was not prone to flights of fancy, Gaara closed his eyes and opened them again. Fortunately, the room seemed normal again.

Briefly.

Two girls seemed to pop up in front of him, and Gaara wondered if they'd literally teleported over. The first girl's entire face was scarlet from her blush, and Gaara mentally dubbed her Blushing Girl.

"Uh . . . Kazekage-sama?" Although she'd walked right up to him, the girl could barely look him in the face. "Would you, uh, would you mind dancing with me?"

A deep feeling of doom thunked into Gaara's stomach like a sandbag hitting his gut. "Kankuro . . ." He felt like saying _Feel free to start defending my life any time now,_ but the two girls would have overheard him.

Kankuro smiled. "Hey, I can't say I'm surprised."

The second girl, who Gaara mentally dubbed Deadpan Girl, was pressing her hand against the first girl's back in a supportive gesture, which made her words all the more confusing. "No, Kazekage-sama, please dance with me first." She made it sound like more of a business arrangement.

Gaara turned and stared with half-hooded eyes at his brother. "This is _not_the same as settling an issue in council," he muttered.

Leaning closer, Kankuro whispered in his ear. "No, it's definitely not. You know, you might want to . . . I mean, if you think you can stand to, you —"

A third girl seemed to materialize from nowhere. "Oh, step aside!" She shoved the other two out of her way. "He wouldn't want to dance with nobodies like you." She smiled at Gaara. "I'm Councilman Daisuke's daughter, Kazekage-sama. Please dance with me."

Gaara found himself caught between the fact that he should say something official and the fact that he didn't want to dance with any of them. However, the one he mentally dubbed Forward Girl irritated him, and he put on his "I'm official" face once again. "The Kazekage considers all his citizens to be equal." He leveled a stern glare at Forward Girl. "And he does things according to order." Realizing what he'd technically agreed to, Gaara wanted to shoot himself.

"Yeah," Temari said, clearly annoyed. "Kazekage-sama can make up his mind about whether he wants to dance with _anyone_or not. He doesn't need your help."

Over the girls' shoulders, Gaara saw Matsuri and Sari both headed his way as well. Fear wasn't an emotion he was well-acquainted with, but for a moment he seriously considered teleporting to a safe location. _Maybe I didn't imagine those glowing eyes after all, _he thought dryly.

Deadpan Girl glared at Forward Girl. "Yeah. Besides, who are you calling a 'nobody?'" She shrugged. "I admit I am. What of it?" She chucked her thumb at Blushing Girl. "But she's Councilman Kentaro's daughter. You're not that special."

Blushing Girl pressed her forefingers together repeatedly, looking ready to die of embarrassment.

With a pang of exasperation, Gaara realized he might have to stop a fight, and he wished for a brief moment he had a different job. Somehow, he didn't feel like his dance lessons or discussions with Kankuro had quite prepared him for this. Resigning himself to his horrible fate, Gaara stepped towards Blushing Girl and extended a hand. "We'll do things equally." He looked at the other two girls. "_Equally_." He stressed the rationality of his action. "According to the order of when you asked me."

Deadpan Girl simply bowed her head. "Yes, Kazekage-sama."

Forward Girl crossed her arms and turned her glare upon Temari.

Matsuri and Sari had reached them. "Me next, Gaara-sama!" Matsuri called. "Please?"

Sari almost accidentally knocked her over in excitement. "Then me, then me! Please?"

Sure that his long years of bad karma had caught up with him all at once, Gaara stared at them, wondering if he were an antelope in the path of ravenous tigresses. He wanted to say no, but he had no good reason to. Also, he didn't want to hurt his ex-student's feelings; although he had no romantic feelings for her, he did care for Matsuri. "Very well."

Blushing Girl distracted him from his dilemma by taking his hand. "T-thank you, Kazekage-sama." Her voice was tiny, and she was staring down at her feet.

"You're welcome." Gaara felt vaguely guilty for how he'd managed to destroy the girl. He directed her out into the main floor, trying to ignore the way she practically squirmed under his hand. He desperately searched for something to say to calm her. "You . . . look nothing like your father." He internally kicked himself; he really had no idea how to deal with these things.

Blushing Girl smiled at him nervously as they began dancing. "I know. I'm sorry. I was rude to ask you to dance like that." She resumed staring at her feet. "Uh . . . I'm Kaori. And thank you, again." Although she stuttered through her words, her blush retreated enough to just highlight her cheeks.

"That's fine." Gaara, noticing that she seemed to be relaxing a bit, actually looked at her face. She had very fine features, almost like a porcelain doll, and green eyes. Her black hair was clasped in some kind of fancy bun — Gaara had no idea what such things were called, if anything — and instead of an evening gown, she wore an elaborate kimono resplendent with a pink sakura design and golden obi. Although she was no great beauty, she reminded Gaara so much of a doll that he suspected she might crack if he squeezed her hand too hard.

Kaori glanced up at him, blushed a touch more, and smiled. "It's a nice party, isn't it?"

"Excellent." Gaara put no emotion into the word and knew he was being cold to her, yet he couldn't bring himself to say anything else. He was uncomfortable around the girl for some reason he couldn't identify. He glanced over her shoulder, searching the room for Kankuro and Temari as though they were his lifeline. He saw them where he left them: near their banquet table, a gaggle of teenage girls surrounding them. He frowned. _Surely not all those girls want to dance with me._ Kankuro could be utterly charming and outgoing when he wanted to be, and his self-confidence radiated from within him. Even Temari had a few young girls who idealized her as their sempai, and in Suna culture, that translated into their hanging all over her, much like a crush.

Kaori chewed her lip briefly. "Uh, it did offend you, didn't it? That I asked first, I mean." Her blush flared deep scarlet again, and she stared at her feet. "My friends always tell me I should be bolder. They tell me I need to get over my shyness and get out with people." She bit her lower lip again. "But it's hard. So . . . so I really am sorry."

"That's all right," Gaara said awkwardly, struck by how unconfident the girl was. However, he realized that he probably sounded the same when he was talking to Kankuro. "You should be as bold as you see fit."

Kaori looked back up. "Really?" She smiled at him and seemed to slightly relax again. "I guess you're right. I really shouldn't just — just let them tell me what to do." She nodded to herself, her smile seeming more genuine. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Gaara felt oddly touched by her smile but had no idea why. It made him feel warm.

Kaori remained relaxed and smiling through the end of the dance, and she curtsied to him when the song ended. "It was lovely to dance with you, Kazekage-sama. I hope the rest of your night goes well."

"Yours, too." Gaara bowed to her, feeling strangely off-balance. Thinking it hadn't been as bad as he'd feared, he watched her run off into the crowd, then returned to where Kankuro and Temari were fending off what appeared to be a veritable throng of girls. He felt his eyes widen; he'd never had so many girls pile up at once. "Kankuro . . ."

His brother grimaced. "Yeah, you seem to have a fan club here, _jan._" He, like Temari, had held out both of his arms, the two of them creating a human fence to keep the girls back.

"I can see that." Gaara paused, struck with an idea. "Unfortunately, I don't expect to have time to dance with everyone." He internally cringed as the girls wailed. "However, I'm sure Kankuro-sama would be willing to dance with some of you. He certainly dances better than I do." He glanced around and spotted Rock Lee off in a corner. "And I can personally recommend that young man over there. He is . . ." He searched for the words. "One of Konoha's finest."

Although he said nothing, Kankuro frowned at him, but Gaara couldn't figure out why given that his brother didn't mind being the center of attention.

Deadpan Girl ducked under Kankuro's arm and walked straight up to Gaara. "Well, you promised five dances, and I'll assume you're good for them." She looked around. "Although Aya-san seems to have stormed off in a rage." She returned her flat, hooded-eyed gaze to him. "But you might want to dance with me just for your personal safety," she murmured through her teeth, masking her words the same way Gaara had earlier. She cocked her thumb back at the howling crowd of girls. "You're safer in the middle of the dance floor than over here."

Deciding that he couldn't predict these girls, Gaara sighed. "Perhaps."

Grabbing him by the upper arm, Deadpan Girl guided him away from the squealing horde. "Trust me," she muttered out of the side of her mouth. "I'm not just being pushy here. Those girls are going nuts."

"_Excuse_ me." Gaara nearly jerked his arm from her hand.

Deadpan Girl seemed unfazed by his reaction. "Just trying to make a quick escape." She released him when they were out of clawing distance of the other girls. She bowed to him instead of curtsying. "My apologies. I'm afraid I'm pretty straightforward." She paused. "Let me try that again." She bowed once more. "I'm Hitomi. Please excuse my rude behavior and give me the honor of a dance with you."

Gaara stared at her, shell-shocked because he'd never had any girl behave in such a way toward him, even Temari. Temari was brash but not quite so frank and brazen.

"Oh, I've gone and done it again, haven't I?" Hitomi sighed. "My father'll let me have it later if he finds out. I know, I know: I'm a commoner, I'm a woman, I'm a chuunin, I should know my place, I shouldn't speak unless spoken to." She sighed again, looking vaguely tired. "My apologies, Kazekage-sama. I'm not trying to insult you or your position. I just have no use for formalities and rituals."

Gaara nearly admitted that he didn't, either, but he held it in. "That's . . . fine." He steeled himself and held out his hand; he hadn't known girls came in so many flavours and varieties.

Hitomi took his hand in a surprisingly gentle grasp. "Thanks."

Gaara nodded, finding himself speechless, and made a mental note to ask Kankuro later about the girl, assuming he knew something about her.

Hitomi settled into the dance easily and kept her eyes on his face without so much as flinching. "I'm glad you agreed to dance with Kaori. She's a really sweet girl, but she lacks confidence. I saw her smiling, though, so I'm guessing it did her good to dance with you. She rarely smiles in public."

"Yes, it seemed to." Gaara noticed that Hitomi was practically leading him.

Hitomi grinned. "Good. I'll find her later and make sure she's still having a good time. I don't want her to stand on the wall the rest of the night." She frowned. "Hey, I know you promised to dance with Aya-san, too, but . . . Well, I don't want to rag on another girl, but frankly, where I'm rude, she's obnoxious. I know I'm too straightforward, but Aya-san . . ." She shook her head.

Gaara sighed and decided he should just talk to the girl because she didn't seem to be interested in him like the others; he had misjudged her intentions with him. He wondered, in fact, if Hitomi's actions were more in support of Kaori than anything. Perhaps Hitomi had told Kaori they would both ask for a dance as a way to convince her friend to take action. It made sense when Gaara considered it — Hitomi had asked to dance first, probably as a chance to prepare the way for Kaori or warn Gaara about her friend's shyness. "It would be best if I did dance with Aya-san. Her father might . . ." He trailed off, frowning to himself. He really did hate rituals and formalities, although he understood their purpose in the village social structure.

"Her father?" Hitomi snorted. "Whatever. I guess." She gazed at him with sudden understanding. "Sorry. I guess you have to think about that kinda stuff, huh? Well, just be careful with her. She tends to target a guy and home in on him like a hawk on prey. It creeps me out, and I'm not even a guy."

Gaara felt all his muscles stiffen. "In what way?" Oddly, he almost considered her a fellow conspirator. Once again, he absently glanced around to see if Kankuro were nearby, but his brother was on the other side of the room, dancing with Matsuri.

Hitomi cringed. "Well . . . she's a guy collector. I mean, she's trying to kiss as many guys as she can, and then she endlessly compares how they kiss. She seems to see it as a game and nothing more. And she acts like —" She grew abruptly silent. "Well, never mind."

"Oh." Gaara wasn't sure what to make of this announcement.

Hitomi seemed to misread the short answer as his agreeing with her. "Yeah, exactly." She shook her head and frowned. "Anyway, enough about her." She chuckled. "You might want to, ah, plot yourself an escape route." She nodded back at the crowd of girls Temari held at bay. "The Mob is growing. I can almost feel their jealous, ravenous eyes boring holes in my back." She laughed. "Not that I don't understand them. Frankly, I think you're handsome and highly honorable. But really, they won't give you a chance to breathe all night long."

Blushing faintly, Gaara forced himself to take a deep breath and wished that these girls would be more predictable. "You're right."

"Yeah, I know." Hitomi grinned at him. "Look, let's move closer to Kankuro-sama. Matsuri-san was next after Aya-san, right? I'll hand you off to her. We can switch partners in the middle of the dance floor and avoid The Mob altogether."

"Best idea I've heard all night," Gaara muttered, almost amused that she was going to hand him off and not the other way around. Still, he led her in Kankuro's direction and noticed that his brother wasn't quite smiling, although he did seem to be listening politely to whatever a blatantly hyper Matsuri was saying.

Hitomi caught Kankuro's gaze as they stepped up alongside them. "Switch?"

_Isn't that my line?_ Gaara wondered, briefly confused.

For a moment, Kankuro frowned in confusion as well, but then he gave her a polite smile and nodded. "Sure." He released Matsuri, who immediately grinned at Gaara.

Gaara also released Hitomi, who stepped over to Kankuro, and he inhaled deeply but silently as Matsuri hopped up and down once.

"Thank you, Gaara-sama!" Matsuri stepped closer.

_At least I know her,_ Gaara thought, taking her hand and beginning the box step yet again. _This shouldn't be quite so awkward._

* * *

><p>Watching Gaara and Matsuri move away from them, Kankuro hid a second frown. His night had gone from strange to disturbing. Although he'd suspected he'd have to bodily shield Gaara from The Mob, he had begun to fear he'd be unable to do anything else; however, Gaara's suggestion that some of the girls dance with him had fallen incredibly flat with him. He felt like saying <em>"I don't need your leftovers or castoffs!"<em> It was insulting, really. Although he hadn't dated extensively — and didn't have time to — he'd always found his girlfriends on his own, _thank you very much._

With a sigh, Kankuro turned to the blunt girl, wondering why she hadn't run off now that her dance with Gaara was over.

She was watching him with a raised eyebrow. "I'm Hitomi."

"Hi . . ." Kankuro wondered why she seemed so expectant. She hadn't been serious about trading, had she?

A small smile turned up the corner of her lips. "Wanna?" She gestured at the dancers around them.

_She was serious._Kankuro stared at her momentarily. She had brown hair and brown eyes — a totally unremarkable girl, almost standard-issue for Suna, and nothing at all like his ex-girlfriend. Fortunately. "Sure." He summoned his mask, his performance, and bowed gracefully to her. "Milady," he said, teasing her. He briefly closed one eye in his habitual mannerism.

Hitomi gave him a wry smile and bowed instead of curtsying. "Kankuro-sama."

Kankuro grinned, struck amused by the fact a woman had just bowed to him. Although she wore a simple crimson chi pao with a golden dragon stitched over one leg, he got the impression the dress was a foreign article of clothing for her. "I guess I had that coming." He took her hand and rested his hand on the small of her back, beginning the dance.

Despite smiling up at him, Hitomi seemed happy to remain silent as they danced. Kankuro tried to relax because he could respect her attitude, but at the same time he felt on-the-spot to perform for her. "Tell me if I start to take steps that are too long," he finally said, opting to be blunt. "I'll be honest and say I love to dance, so I can get kinda carried away." _Assuming I can get into this at all,_ he added mentally. After Temari and he had gotten The Mob under some control, he'd agreed to dance with Matsuri just to alleviate his own boredom; however, he knew perfectly well that she was only interested in Gaara. He had the strange thought that he now understood how used clothes felt.

"Don't worry; I'll let you know." Hitomi snorted. "I'd probably trip and run into you." She winked at him, her smile widening.

Kankuro chuckled in spite of himself, relieved to see she had a sense of humor.

"The last guy I danced with stepped on my feet," she continued, her eyes hooded. "I'm pretty damn sure it was intentional, too. He was a jerk."

"Oh, man — that's nuts." Kankuro let himself relax, thinking that her words might explain in part why she was practically leading him. "I mean, it's one thing to be clumsy, but to hurt your partner on purpose? What an ass."

Hitomi shrugged one shoulder. "He was a little tipsy, too."

Kankuro shook his head. "You should've, say, 'accidentally' tripped him and made him fall on his face."

"I did." Hitomi was utterly deadpan.

Kankuro grinned again, much amused. "Good."

"Of course, Father wasn't too terribly happy with that. That boy was someone important. But I'm sure the ground really enjoyed the date it had with his face." Hitomi paused and sighed. "There I go again . . ."

Unable to stop himself, Kankuro openly laughed. "You really have a way with words, _jan_." He decided he liked her spirit. "Hey, don't hold back your sense of humor. It's . . ." He trailed off, trying to think of the right word. "Well, refreshing. Besides, I don't tend to hide my opinions, either."

Hitomi returned his grin. "I've noticed."

Although he was still amused, Kankuro wondered what she meant. Was she talking about her observations thus far that night, or had she heard rumors about him? Perhaps his team had been on a mission with hers once before. Kankuro was good with faces and names, but Hitomi looked like a dozen other village girls. He wracked his brain and finally recalled a three-team mission from two years earlier. She had been the young genin brandishing sai.

"I don't think the last guy took me too seriously anyway," Hitomi had continued. "I mean, most guys don't. I totally put them off. Kaori's really the only one who seems to put up with me, and she's, well, not a guy." She frowned briefly.

Kankuro was surprised at her openness; now that she'd begun speaking, she seemed to enjoy talking to him. He remembered her as being mostly silent during the long-ago mission. "Hm. Well, if you really want to know, you put off vibes that basically say 'Cross me and I'll kill you.' Most guys can't handle that, even among shinobi." He analyzed her further, trying to deduce what else he sensed. "You radiate the fact you're no nonsense, and again, most guys don't know what to do with that. They expect you to play those little flirting games with all the coy smiles and giggling." He snorted, thinking back to how well his ex-girlfriend, Koto, had played that game. Sometimes he thought she had ultimately proven to be a better performer than he was.

"Yeah. It's ridiculous." Hitomi simply laughed. "Guess I know why Kaori likes your brother — I suppose he's a bit like me. I don't get the impression that Kazekage-sama likes stupid rituals that much, either."

Noting that Hitomi hadn't indicated that she liked Gaara, Kankuro wondered at her motivation for dancing with his brother. "Hell, no. Gaara's only concerned with things like principles and protecting what is important."

Although she nodded, Hitomi suddenly frowned, looking a bit downcast.

Confused as to what he'd said that could cause such a reaction, Kankuro backtracked through their conversation and picked the most likely culprit. "Hey, it's fine by me. I get irritated by giggling girls. I'm kinda an action-based guy. I cut straight to the point — with my fists if I have to, but hey. I don't care if you don't play those games. The only games I play are the mind games I play with people before I kill them."

Hitomi's brow furrowed, as though she wasn't quite sure what to make of his last sentence.

Kankuro realized he was over-relying on his punk mask because of his wounds from Koto. "Heh. Sorry." He blushed faintly, feeling irked at himself for making Hitomi uncomfortable. _I've got one chick who actually wants to dance with me for me, apparently, and I scare her off. Awesome._

"No problem." Hitomi shrugged one shoulder again.

Kankuro felt like she was trying to puzzle him out. Before he could say anything further, though, he realized the song was over. "Hey . . . would you like to keep dancing?" He internally cursed himself for sounding hesitant. He had always been confident about such things, but after Koto, he felt like he'd been cooked extra-crispy.

"Would you?" she asked. "Or is there someone else you'd like to dance with? I won't be offended."

Surprised once again by her bluntness, Kankuro took a good look at her posture and facial expression and realized she expected him to be uninterested. "Nah. I'd like it if you danced with me again."

Hitomi glanced around the room, and Kankuro followed her gaze. She was looking at the other girl, Kaori, who was standing by the refreshment table chatting with an older woman. "Kaori seems safe." She hesitated as though she were embarking on some great risk. "And . . . I would be honoured."

Kankuro felt the metaphorical light bulb switch on in his brain. _Two fried chickens, both extra crispy,_ he assessed, smirking faintly to himself. "Excellent." He gave the hand he held a faint squeeze and began to dance again.

A pleased smile hovered on Hitomi's lips, and she seemed to relax in his arms. Kankuro found himself smiling back at her, having come to the realization that she really had wanted to dance specifically with him. Not only that, but she seemed to enjoy it. _Maybe this night won't be so bad after all,_ he thought, holding her to touch closer as they resumed their conversation.

* * *

><p>Two songs later, Gaara felt deeply exhausted. He'd undergone entire days of training and felt less exhausted. He'd granted Matsuri two songs since she was his ex-student, and he was dancing with her friend Sari. Now all he wanted to do was escape.<p>

Sari either could detect his mood or didn't wish to share him with any other girls. "Kazekage-sama, when the song ends, I'll head over there and loudly announce to Temari-sama that you've been pulled off to chat with some Konoha bigwig. And you can slip out that door over there." She nodded toward balcony door, then looked back at him. "Just do me a favor in return. If we're ever at a ball again, please save a dance for me." She grinned.

"Very well. And thank you," Gaara said, releasing her and bowing on the final notes of the song. He stared at her as she ran back to Matsuri, realizing that each of the four girls he'd danced with had ultimately impacted him in some way he couldn't define. He felt vaguely slain, but he kept the presence of mind to head toward the balcony.

From the corner of his vision, he saw Sari and Matsuri approach Temari. "Sempai," Sari said, "Kazekage-sama got hauled off by one of those people hanging around Hokage-sama. I think they're talking business or something."

The Mob's collective wail rose over the music: "_Nooo!_"

Temari's words were faint under the ruckus. "Thank Kami." She turned and headed straight for Shikamaru.

Gaara slipped quietly onto the balcony, hoping no one had noted his escape. He felt the cool night air hit his face and took a long, deep breath. Before leaning against the wall, he kicked the door shut behind him.

A faint gasp sounded behind the potted tree in the corner, and Gaara glanced toward it. In the darkness, he could barely see the shape behind the branches despite the faint glow from the strand of lights woven through the leaves.

"Who's there?" came a feminine voice, and Forward Girl peeked out from around the tree. She was sitting on the ground, apparently unmindful of her beautiful, satin dress. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and she had her arms wrapped around her knees, which she hugged to her chest.

_It's that Aya girl._ Gaara stared at her, wondering if he should leave or not. He had no idea what to do with crying women even on a good day, and he felt emotionally drained. Also, he remembered Hitomi's warning, although Aya seemed harmless enough when curled into a ball with a dirty dress and puffy eyes. _I suppose I'll have to learn to deal with these girls eventually,_ he thought, stepping out onto the balcony. _Even if I don't understand their fascination with me._

He decided to stay.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Quick set of translation reminders: "ototo" means "younger brother;" "henge" means "transform;" and "kaze no nami" means "wind wave."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

"Kazekage-sama?" Aya sounded surprised.

Still feeling uncomfortable with the situation, Gaara realized he didn't really know what to say. "Yeah."

Aya immediately teared up again. "I'm so sorry!" A sob caught in her throat, and she dragged in a ragged breath. "I know I made you angry back there. I can be —" She dragged in another ragged breath. "—really pushy. I just . . ." She bit her lip brutally. "I've had a crush on you for so long!"

Although he wasn't surprised, Gaara was caught off guard by the awkwardness of her admission and couldn't manage to reply.

Aya covered her face with her hands. "Oh, no." Her voice was muffled. "I didn't mean to say that." She dropped her hands and rubbed at her eyes. "Sorry. I know the other girls think I'm really shallow." Pushing herself to her feet, she stumbled over to the railing and leaned on it. "I'm sure Kaori-chan said nothing; she's too nice. But Hitomi-san speaks her mind, and we've never liked each other." She took a deep breath and stared up at the moon; tears still seeped from her eyes.

Opening his mouth to speak, Gaara hesitated when he realized he honestly had no idea what to say. "Well, she did say . . ."

"I can guess." Aya's gaze dropped and a sad smile bent her lips.

Gaara recognized he wasn't helping. "I . . ." He paused again, internally cursing himself for being so incompetent with conversation. He didn't say much, mostly talked business, and only had genuine conversations with his siblings. In the end, the only people he could really imagine being open with were his siblings and Naruto. Even the concept of small talk mystified him; he thought it was stupid.

Aya glanced at him. "When you said that you looked at all of the villagers as equals, you really meant it, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did." Gaara felt immensely thankful for the change of topic. He thought back to the chuunin exams, which suddenly seemed a lifetime ago. "Someone showed me once that circumstance has nothing to do with value. Neither does skill. There are other things more important."

Aya had turned her gaze to the full moon. "I guess that makes you a just man, then." She bit her lip again. "Maybe you'll forgive my earlier behavior. I _am_sorry."

Gaara was struck by how sincere she seemed, and he knew how important it was to try to forgive people if they truly were sorry, especially since he'd been there once himself. "It's . . . That's fine."

Aya smiled at him tentatively. "I'll be honest. I tend to throw my father's name around a lot to get what I want." She grimaced. "But you know, it's nice to hear that you consider us all equals. I'm actually really tired of being known as 'Daisuke's daughter.' You seem like you could actually see me as my own person." She turned and bowed her head. "In that case, let me officially introduce myself. I'm Aya."

"It's nice to meet you." Gaara inclined his head in return.

Aya's smile stabilized. "Thank you. It really is a pleasure to meet you." She stepped closer to him, although not overly so. "You said there are things more important than skill or lineage. Like what?"

Gaara walked over to the railing and put a hand on it, partially to maintain his personal space. After dancing so much, he felt the need to get away from people. "Some of the strongest shinobi I have ever fought against were strong because they fought for someone. They had something to fight for, to defend."

Aya joined him at the railing, but she didn't crowd his space. "They fought to defend someone? You mean like family?"

Gaara frowned faintly. "They fought for someone precious to them. Just like I fight for our village."

"I . . . see." Aya watched him with faint wonder. "I guess I never thought of fighting as anything more than duty." She paused, looking momentarily disgruntled. "Maybe that's why I'm still a genin."

"Someone explained it to me," Gaara said quietly. "I don't think it's always obvious."

Aya looked relieved. "Oh, good. I know I can be selfish, but I'd like to think someday I'll —" She stopped, cutting herself off. "Well, your sister and brother were definitely defending you in there." She laughed half-heartedly. "For a few minutes, I thought your sister was going to kill me."

A grin tugged at the corner of Gaara's mouth. "Temari has that effect on people." To his surprise, he found he had relaxed when Aya had, but he couldn't quite figure out why.

"Yeah, well, she told me off pretty good." Aya smiled in spite of her words. "I guess I earned it though. I admit it was why I was out here crying. But she . . . I guess she made a good point. I don't know you, and I don't have the right to walk up to you and made demands of you like I do know you. I just see you from afar and admire you." Her shoulders slumped slightly, a frown furrowing her brow. "None of us know you. Not Kaori-chan, not Hitomi-san, not me. Not any of us. We squeal and call out your name when you pass; we talk about how handsome you are. But we really know nothing. I guess I just wanted the chance to meet you for real." Her smile returned faintly. "And I have. You are very fair and very kind."

Gaara was struck speechless. He had absolutely no time for the girls who followed him around and screamed, but he'd never had one admit to him that her behaviour was shallow. "Thank you," he said quietly. Suddenly, the nameless, faceless horde separated in his mind, turning into a collection of individual girls, all of them as different from each other as Kaori, Hitomi, Matsuri, Sari, and Aya were. Instead of being the Mysterious Other, they were people just like he was.

Aya turned her smile upon the moon. "You're welcome." Holding two fingers in front of her chin she whispered, "_Kaze no nami._" After invoking her ninjustu, she extended a hand over the railing, and a gentle wind rushed up and over them, fluttering their hair. "There. That's what I see in you tonight — the wind, strong yet gentle." She turned back to him, only to chew on her lip faintly. "I'm sorry; I blew a leaf into your hair!" She reached up and pulled out the leaf, then paused. "You're . . ." She blushed, then leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips.

Rendered immobile with surprise, Gaara stared at her, feeling a wave of heat rush to his face. He had no idea what he should do or even wanted to do. Should he push her away? It hadn't necessarily been a bad sensation, but he'd just met her.

When he neither resisted nor encouraged her, Aya reached out and grasped one of his wrists, pulling them toward each other and kissing him again. She gasped slightly as though she couldn't quite get air, then sucked on his lower lip before releasing the kiss slowly.

Gaara felt himself unfreeze, his impulse sliding toward shoving her away. Still he paused, unsure if that were the appropriate thing for the Kazekage to do; he didn't want to frighten or hurt her, exactly. Never again did he want to hear the word "monster" thrown at him.

Pulling back, Aya giggled and released him. "Did I get your first kiss? I did, didn't I? Awesome!" She squealed, hopping up and down in place once. "Thank you, Kazekage-sama!" She waved at him and then dashed off the balcony, throwing open the door and leaving it open behind her.

Gaara stared after her, deciding he should have shoved her away after all. Although she might be a person in his mind, apparently he wasn't a person in her mind. He remembered again what Hitomi had told him about Aya: she was a kiss collector. A wave of nausea hit his gut as he realized that she had been playing with him. He felt his lip curl in a sneer, feeling disgusted with both the girl and himself, and he slid down the railing to sit on the balcony.

For a minute, his thoughts tumbled over each other as he mentally replayed the scene, trying to figure out what he should have done differently or could have done differently to change the outcome. Would a simple "stop" have sufficed? Possibly. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner?

Too late.

Kankuro stepped through the doorway. "There you are. I wondered where you'd gone off to. How —" He stopped, glancing over his brother. "Gaara?"

Reaching up, Gaara brushed his lips with his fingers and wondered once again exactly what all these stupid social and dating rituals were supposed to be. What was a kiss, really? Did any of it mean anything?

Kankuro walked over and knelt by him. "Hey, man, what happened?

Gaara tried to say something — to explain the weird situation he'd landed himself in — but he only managed to part his lips. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, only to be struck with unwelcome thoughts. Had Aya been laughing at him? Was she laughing at him right now? He could only imagine what kinds of rumors would be started about him, and for a moment, all he could see was his childhood — people whispering about him, hissing at him, calling him names, and turning their backs as he walked past. He closed his eyes, horrified. _I don't want that again — never again. But this is different, right? Things are different, right?_He didn't feel reassured.

"Gaara?" Kankuro sounded worried; he squeezed his shoulder gently. "Did something happen between you and Daisuke's daughter? A minute ago, she ran past me from this general direction."

How to explain? "She . . ." It occurred to Gaara that if he still had Shukaku, the beast would have been laughing hysterically at him. In fact, Shukaku would have enjoyed the entire experience, no doubt making further demands of him. He opened his eyes, trying to chase the thoughts away. "She kissed me. It was some kind of game to her, I think."

A heavy, tense silence descended upon the balcony, and after a moment, Gaara realized the air was literally charged with his brother's angry chakra. Distracted from his thoughts by the sheer intent-to-kill electrifying the air, Gaara stared up at Kankuro.

"A game, huh?" Kankuro growled, baring his teeth in an expression Gaara rarely saw on him. "That sounds familiar, _jan._What a bitch!"

_Familiar?_Gaara thought, briefly wondering what his brother meant. However, Kankuro's narrowed gaze slid toward the door, and Gaara remembered a dozen incidents over the last year or so where his brother had mouthed off to people who'd insulted his ototo. Unlike Temari, Kankuro didn't care about social proprieties, and he wasn't impressed with rank or traditional status. People had to earn his respect regardless of who they were. Gaara sometimes wondered if it were the result of knowing how their father, as the Kazekage, acted behind closed doors or if it were simply part of Kankuro's inherent personality.

Either way, Aya was in danger.

"Stop." Gaara grasped his brother's arm before he could take action. He didn't want a scene, and more than that, he wasn't sure himself how he wanted to deal with the situation.

Kankuro froze.

Realizing that he was being a bit vague, Gaara squeezed the arm he held, not wanting his brother to feel that his protective impulses were being rejected. It meant too much to him that his brother loved him enough to want to protect him. "You want to tell her off, don't you? Wait. I need time to think."

Kankuro thawed immediately, turning back toward him. "Sure, man."

Dropping his hand, Gaara tried to figure out what he _did_want. "For now, I want to leave." He realized how incredibly rude he would seem to the Hokage and the Konoha shinobi in general. "We need a good reason. I don't want to offend our allies." At the same time, his Social Interaction Reserves, as he'd dubbed them, were completely depleted — or more like down in the negatives. He felt as though he were mentally suffocating.

"Right." Kankuro paused. "You know, leave that to me. I think I'll use your original idea. I'll use _henge_and disguise myself as you. I'll give it another half-hour, maybe dance with one or two more girls, then go thank Tsunade-hime for a wonderful evening. No one will notice because no one will think to check for something like that."

"But won't someone notice that you're gone?"

"No one will care," Kankuro replied bluntly.

Gaara paused, finding that he was disturbed by Kankuro's assessment. "I don't think that's true."

Kankuro sighed. "Okay, one girl might care, but she's taking care of her friend right now. Someone lashed out at her for dancing with you." He shrugged. "But hey, if Temari approaches me, I'll explain. She's the only one likely to realize you're not you. I have your mannerisms and verbal quirks memorized, after all."

It was too tempting. "Very well. But as soon as you leave, come to my suite." Gaara frowned, putting Kankuro's story together and feeling irritated that someone had hurt Kaori for simply dancing with him.

"You got it." Kankuro gave him a small smile and stood, holding two fingers in front of his chest. "_Henge._" A pop, and a perfect likeness of Gaara suddenly took his place. He turned toward his ototo and crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at him impassively and silently.

Gaara returned his brother's faint smile; he would have been deeply amused had he not been so irritated and exhausted.

Kankuro strolled back into the ballroom, and Gaara was struck with the realization that he didn't want to do without his nii-san. He felt that even if he did manage to get married and have three kids of his own — which seemed somehow impossible to him — he would weave Kankuro into his life in such a way that they would never grow apart. Given that his brother stood in line to be promoted to master of the Puppet Corps, Gaara didn't see the task as too difficult. The Puppet Corps' master always had a seat on the council, after all. They would work together on an almost daily basis.

Somehow, Gaara didn't think Kankuro would mind. And given that Gaara suspected they would ultimately lose Temari to Shikamaru and Konoha, the thought that Kankuro would remain by him was profoundly comforting.

* * *

><p>After having a glass of punch, Kankuro — still successfully disguised as Gaara — leaned against the far wall, opposite from the chamber orchestra. He'd danced with five more girls, all of them from Suna, and had found himself nearly as exhausted as Gaara by the end. Fortunately, the girls weren't all bubbly and overexcited, although Kankuro decided that for the most part, only the extraverted, hyperactive girls were bold enough to ask for a dance. Still, two of the girls had been calm, and most of them had been decent conversationalists.<p>

Although Naruto had stopped to talk to him briefly, forcing Kankuro to put on his best performance yet, the equally overexcited, hyperactive boy had finally convinced Sakura to dance once with him. A brief glance across the floor revealed a few other dancers Kankuro recognized: Neji with Tenten, Lee with Hinata, and of course Shikamaru with Temari. Kankuro noted that both Hinata and Lee were covertly staring at Naruto and Sakura. Interestingly, Hitomi wasn't dancing with anyone else, and Kankuro found that he hoped it wasn't just because she was taking care of Kaori.

He also noticed that his ex-girlfriend, Koto, was dancing with Sari's and Matsuri's friend Ittetsu. He didn't have long to consider how he felt about it, though. Once the song ended, Temari headed straight for Kankuro, and by the way her left eyebrow arched, he knew she had figured out the switch without even talking to him.

"Ototo," she said noncommittally. Or at least it would have seemed vague to anyone but her brothers.

However, Kankuro had picked up on a difference in inflection. When his sister said the word to Gaara, it was tinged with a certain formality and reverence, as though her respect for Gaara's rank pervaded even her most casual moments with him. When she said it to Kankuro, the word was colored with an easy warmth and familiarity.

"What's this?" Kankuro dropped his voice so he wouldn't be overheard. "You're giving Nara-kun a break, _jan_?"

Temari shook her head with an air of exasperation. "Where is my other ototo? And why are you disguised as him?"

Kankuro made sure to keep his facial expression stoic. Although Gaara showed more expression around his siblings when they were in private, he had yet to recover the range of expression he'd had as a young child. Kankuro wondered if Gaara would ever heal enough to recover it. "Well, you know how he gets if he spends too much time in a crowd."

"This is an official event," Temari hissed under her breath.

"That will probably last all night, you know," Kankuro pointed out. "That doesn't mean, though, that we have to stay all night." He nodded faintly toward the adults, knowing where it all had to be headed. "After a while, the only form of entertainment left will be watching the drunks mutilate karaoke after the orchestra leaves. By that point, all the dignitaries will be long gone, and thanks to _henge_, none of them will realize Gaara left first."

Temari narrowed her eyes in the way she did when Kankuro managed to out-logic her. "It's still immature."

"Well, duh. Even though we're shinobi, we're still teenagers, _jan_." Kankuro gave her a very faint smirk. "Even though he's Kazekage, Gaara's still only fifteen."

"Jackass."

"Thank you."

Temari leaned against the wall beside him, crossing her arms over her chest and matching Kankuro's "Gaara Pose" perfectly. "I never expected him to have that little endurance, though."

Staring out across the room, Kankuro found his gaze falling upon Koto again. "It's more than that. He had a run-in with that Aya girl."

"Oh, really?" Temari's eyes narrowed again.

Kankuro could smell the doom. It was one reason he hadn't told his siblings much about his breakup with Koto. In addition to not wanting to burden them, he'd suspected Temari's reaction toward her would be less than friendly. Granted, he didn't necessarily mind Temari's beating up Koto. He wasn't the kind of guy who felt he needed to guard his machismo by never letting anyone else defend him; he had utter confidence in his abilities and manhood. He just didn't want Temari to get in trouble.

The same could also be said of Temari's reaction toward Aya. It was why he understood Gaara's stopping him. "Yeah," he ventured. "Apparently she kinda . . . forced a kiss on him."

Suddenly, the air felt significantly heavier, as though iron filaments had attached to all the oxygen molecules. "Oh, she did?" Temari's posture straightened as she pulled away from the wall, her tone promising much violence.

"Gaara told me not to do anything," Kankuro quickly added. "He hasn't decided what he wants to do yet."

Frowning and clearly displeased, Temari leaned against the wall again and crossed her arms once more. "Fine. I should behave myself here, anyway. It wouldn't do to create a scene."

Temari cared far more about tradition, formality, and appearance than Kankuro did. He shrugged one shoulder. "I guess."

"Still," Temari added, frowning, "it explains all the whispering and giggling. Have you noticed all the wide-eyed looks aimed 'your' way?"

Kankuro held back a sigh. "Yeah. Aya's been bragging about it, huh?" He had hoped it was just his imagination or maybe just the normal stares from girls who wanted to dance with Gaara.

"I couldn't hear what any of them were saying other than one yelled 'No way!' But yeah, I'm guessing that's it." Temari shifted restlessly, clearly irritated. "That's so immature and disrespectful."

Kankuro agreed, but he tried to distract himself before his temper flared up again and his protective impulses got the better of him. He glanced around the room, and although he didn't want to watch her, he found his gaze sliding toward Koto again.

"You're still not quite over her, are you?" Temari asked quietly, apparently having followed his gaze.

Kankuro grimaced. "What do you mean by 'over'? I definitely don't want to have anything to do with her ever again." He paused, not wanting to talk about it. "I still feel pretty burnt, though."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're holding back on me?" Temari shot him a sideways glance. "You always do that. You want protect everyone — even nearly get yourself killed doing it — but you clam up when you're really hurt yourself."

So, she was already in the Hard Truth stage. Kankuro stared at the red and white banner decorating the far wall. "You wouldn't let me protect you, anyway." He was careful not to let his frustration or dreams on that subject show in his tone.

Temari snorted. "I will if I really need it. But you're right — you've got your work cut out for you. I'm the oldest; I'm supposed to protect you." She turned toward him. "So, do I need to beat Koto senseless or not? Don't you think it's time you told me? Although, really, your silence on the subject is enough to answer my question."

"Nah." Kankuro felt a small smile tugging at his lips and fought if off so as to not shatter his portrayal of Gaara. "It wouldn't do any good. I'll explain later. In private."

"You better." Temari stepped away from the wall. "Go take care of our ototo, okay? I'll stop in and check on you both later."

"Right." Kankuro pushed off the wall as well, wondering how his sister would react when she got the full story. Somehow the thought made him feel warm.

He headed toward Tsunade, preparing his thank you speech.

* * *

><p>When Kankuro arrived at his brother's suite — the expansive quarters reserved for visiting Kages and similar dignitaries — he found two temporary bodyguards standing watch at the door. Technically, Temari and he were Gaara's bodyguards, though, so he dismissed them and entered, finding Gaara in the parlor, sitting on the couch and staring out the window. Kankuro noted that his brother had been quick to change out of the tux into a plain black yukata. Not that he could say anything. He had also swung past his section of the multi-room quarters and changed into a yukata.<p>

Gaara had lit one oil lamp, which mixed with the moonlight to provide the room with faint illumination. It was enough, however, for Kankuro to detect his disgruntled expression. The faint frown that accompanied Gaara's usual stoic mask was more pronounced than usual. "Pissed?" Kankuro asked, flopping onto the couch beside him. He leaned his head against the backrest and stared at the ceiling.

"It wasn't . . . a bad sensation," Gaara admitted slowly. "But I'd just met her, and kissing complete strangers doesn't appeal to me. The more I think about it, the surer I am that it was some kind of game. I mean, in her eyes I'm not even a person. That's the part that makes me mad." He paused. "I'm not here to be anyone's entertainment."

Kankuro frowned as well, watching the moonlight slant like creeping fingers across the ceiling. "Entertainment . . ." It seemed like a theme to him. To a certain extent, Gaara had been the mere front-man for the council thus far. When Gaara had been abducted, the council had been blunt: they had made Gaara Kazekage only to try to control him. Merely thinking back on that conversation still made Kankuro furious. The council saw Gaara as a fifteen-year-old child with little leadership experience, and although there was some truth to the thought, Gaara was almost like their entertainment instead of their Kage. A monster to be controlled, not a person.

Kankuro hoped that Gaara's protection of the village had raised their opinion some.

But all of that was something that made an unfortunate kind of sense to Kankuro, even if he didn't like it. What he hadn't counted on was that some girls would see Gaara as a sex object to be pursued. He had seen it as their having crushes on him, and society tended to congratulate men who could sweep lots of women off their feet — or, more specifically, sleep with as many of them as possible. The first seemed innocent enough, and the second didn't impress him. But he only now realized that there were other points along that continuum.

"I feel stupid for somehow falling into her trap, too," Gaara continued. "I was warned, but I didn't detect her act. I also wasn't sure if I should . . ." He trailed off, his brow furrowing.

"You're not stupid. Since it's nothing but a game to her, I'm sure she's really good at it." Kankuro couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. He could empathize a little too well.

Gaara was quiet for a moment. "What happened the first time you kissed?"

"Me?" Kankuro rolled his head to the side so he could look at his brother. "Well, I ran up to the girl, gave her a quick kiss, and then ran off again."

Gaara stared at him.

Kankuro had to laugh. "Hey, we were, like, ten. I'm not really sure we understood what 'going out' was, but we stayed together for most of that school year." He smile faded as he considered the past. They'd remained friends even after graduating, but she'd been killed on a mission when they were fourteen.

Sighing, Gaara shifted on the couch and faced his brother. "Maybe I'm over-thinking this or assigning too much significance to it. Love, touch, affection, kissing . . ." He lifted one hand, waving it through the air vaguely. "I've worked hard to understand and build bonds; we've talked about things. But at the end of the day, I feel like the rules and games surrounding romance are ridiculously complicated. Some of it just seems stupid or fake."

Although he wished he could provide a counterargument, Kankuro found he couldn't. He was painfully aware of the fact his brotherly wisdom on this subject ran out after a point. "With some people, that's true." Disturbed, he wondered if his brother had suffered a setback on the issue or if his experience had merely brought more of his thoughts to the surface.

"It doesn't help that . . ." Gaara trailed off, his frown becoming more pronounced again.

Kankuro felt his stomach clench and wondered if Gaara were thinking about Shukaku. He hadn't wanted to admit it to him — hadn't even wanted to think about it — but the memory of Gaara's words several nights earlier had been haunting him:

_"Shukaku's gone. It's not supposed to happen."_

"But Shukaku always used to . . . He'd try to take control of me that way.

A deep, cold feeling seeped through Kankuro's gut, working outward until it felt like his lungs were frozen. What, exactly, had the beast done to his brother? The bloodlust had been obvious, but when Gaara had reached the stage where he spoke aloud with Shukaku, holding one-sided conversations, the words hadn't always made sense. Kankuro had never stopped to consider that the topic had been anything except killing and death. However, in retrospect, he realized he'd been shortsighted.

Kankuro suddenly found it deeply creepy that Gaara had confused Shukaku with their mother's spirit, and he had to wonder if the beast's actions counted as some kind of verbal molestation. If so, it made sense that Gaara was so perplexed about these issues. It also made Kankuro hurt even more for his brother.

"Maybe I'm just not normal," Gaara finally continued. "Shukaku always did and said strange things, and I never knew whether he was lying or just torturing me. I finally assumed little of it was true or real." He leaned the side of his head against the couch back. "I overheard the boys at the academy a few times, but since I never had friends, all I picked up were small bits and pieces in passing. I didn't put it together until you talked to me about it."

Kankuro straightened, propping one foot on the couch and folding his leg so he could rest his arm on his knee. He didn't interrupt, figuring Gaara was thinking out loud, but he hated thinking about the past. Until Gaara was six, he had lived in a separate house, and even once their father had brought Gaara home, he'd isolated him from his siblings. Gaara hadn't attended the Academy normally, often pulled out to be trained one-on-one instead — ultimately because of his instability and the danger it posed to the other children. Kankuro figured that even if Gaara had remained sane, he would have had trouble making and maintaining friends, and the thought still depressed him. Nothing about Gaara's experience had been normal.

"And maybe, in the end, I'll never be entirely normal." Gaara's thoughts seemed to be along the same lines as Kankuro's. He glanced down at his hand, clenching and unclenching his fingers as though he couldn't decide if they were real. "I wonder sometimes if I'll be able to build a relationship with a woman. Marry? Have children? It all seems unlikely somehow. Not because people still fear me or even that no one is capable of respecting me, but because I can't imagine connecting with someone that way."

"Or if you want to?" Kankuro asked quietly, thinking over his own experiences. He shook his head. "No, you're too young to give up. And you've come too far to assume you can't change."

Gaara seemed to chew over the words, although he didn't respond directly. "But what you said just now — you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah, that much at least." Kankuro ended up staring at his lap. "I wonder sometimes . . . did Mom love Father when they first married? Did she love him when Temari was born? When I was? Did she realize her husband was willing to sacrifice her — and her son — to get what he wanted?" He gripped his knees brutally. "She must have known. She must have figured it out."

"Uncle Yashamaru said that Mom didn't want me," Gaara whispered.

Struck through by the words, Kankuro reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. "Did she want any of us?"

And then Gaara was squeezing his hand in return as they struggled to comfort each other.

"This is why I say love really doesn't make sense to me, either." Kankuro shuddered faintly. "I don't want to have a relationship like that. What was it? A political arrangement? I don't want something fake that will ultimately turn into hate." He paused, wondering if he were making sense. "I mean, sometimes I can't help noticing the parents of my friends." He felt his nose crinkle in disgust. "They do nothing but fight. They call each other names, use each other, or dump on each other. They show no respect; they're totally selfish. I look at them, and I wonder . . . Were they ever in love at all? Or were they just infatuated? Was it lust?" He smirked, knowing he'd started to fall into that trap. He hadn't had any deep reason to date Koto; it was simply that she was pretty to look at. In the end, he felt as though he were just as confused as Gaara in his own way.

Gaara shook his head slowly. "I have no idea. But you said before it wasn't just about how good the sex was."

Kankuro snorted. "Yeah, _jan_." Koto's face flashed into his mind again, but he pushed it away. "And I don't want that. I mean, I don't wanna be the forty-year-old guy who does nothing but bitch about how mean his wife is or how much she nags. I don't wanna be the sixty-year-old guy who chases teenage girls down the street. I don't wanna be the eighty-year-old guy who sits in his rocking chair across from his wife and tells her to hurry up and die."

"You won't be." Gaara sounded so sure.

Kankuro thought back on the blow-out fight he'd had with Koto as they broke up. "But sometimes I wonder . . . is there really any other option?" Although he didn't intend it, the words came out as a whisper. "Everyone I know seems to spend all their time whining and complaining about their spouse." He realized suddenly that he couldn't be helping Gaara's attitude any, much less his confusion, but at the same time, he really wanted an answer.

After a lengthy pause, Gaara scooted closer, and to Kankuro's surprise, he ran his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. With a faint smile, Kankuro shifted so he could rest his head on his brother's shoulder. He felt caught somewhere between embarrassment and deep affection. All his life, he had worried about and protected others, always working hard to get stronger, be tough, be a Man. He had hidden the depth of his true care behind a mask, knowing it wouldn't be accepted, but now someone was openly offering him that same care in return.

"If you were going to build a strong relationship with a woman, what would you do?" Gaara asked after a moment's silence.

Kankuro pondered the question with the same seriousness with which it was asked. After several minutes, he offered the only answer he could imagine. "I guess I'd be best friends with her first. You know, so we could really be ourselves." Abruptly, he found himself spilling his guts. "It's what went wrong with Koto. She loved my performance. She's an artist, herself, and she likes 'bad boys,' I guess. She liked it when I was a smart ass, when I was a total punk, even when I roughed people up. And she loved my accent —" He paused, smirking, then added belatedly, "— _jan._"

Gaara's arm tightened around him. "There's more to you than that."

"She didn't _want_ anything more, so I couldn't really be _me_. It felt like nothing but a game." Kankuro's words sounded so acidic he wondered that he didn't burn the air speaking them. He couldn't quite reveal to Gaara the depth of his humiliation yet, though. He'd thought his relationship with Koto had been headed somewhere, but now he realized that he'd been terribly naïve.  
>Although three months had passed, her laughter still rang in his ears. "So, yeah, I guess I'd just wanna be friends first, you know? Or something like that. Because I realized one day that I never really knew Koto. Just little stuff like her favorite food or music." <em>Or what she liked in bed,<em>he thought but didn't say. "Turns out we really had nothing in common past surface details." Even as he said he words, he knew Gaara was the only one he could say them to. The entire conversation was one he'd only trust his siblings with. He couldn't begin to imagine being so open with any of his guy friends.

"Then maybe that's what we should both do," Gaara said. "Take our time getting to know the girl, feel comfortable with her. Make sure our personalities and worldviews don't clash. It would almost be like creating a successful team — matching up personalities and jutsu, balancing strengths and weaknesses, and building teamwork and communication."

Kankuro remembered some advice he'd been given years earlier. "Someone told me once that you have to have a good foundation of friendship to build a relationship on if you want it to last."

Gaara seemed to ponder this for a moment. "Makes sense. If you can't be friends with them, how can you ever be anything more and expect it to work? Don't you need to enjoy the time you spend with them just on a daily, mundane basis? Life _is_mundane. If you consider it that way, success would have to be in the small details as much as the large ones."

Deciding his brother understood relationships better than he thought he did, Kankuro smiled, taking the wisdom for what it was. "I'm not sure you're normal," he said without warning, "but I will say that if you're abnormal, it's not bad. That was pretty smart; I'll keep it in mind." He wondered briefly if he should try the theory with Hitomi, maybe ask her out later. The thought of dating still filled him with unease, though.

Gaara shifted again, and Kankuro felt warm lips against his forehead. Feeling somewhat like a child again, Kankuro had to hold back a laugh, but it didn't escape his notice that the care he'd given Gaara was now being returned to him.

"You're precious to me," Gaara said quietly, bluntly. "I want to help you or protect you if I can."

The words struck Kankuro so hard he thought he might be rendered momentarily deaf. He wrapped one arm around his brother, hugging him in return. For a minute, he thought his heart might tear in two. Part of him wanted Gaara to feel protective toward him, and part of him still wanted to be the older brother, almost like a father figure. "I know you're the Kazekage, and you don't really need anyone's help. But I want to protect you, too."

"You already do." The words were soft. "I don't mind. The more I look back on it, the more I can see that you always wished to protect me. You were always first to offer to carry me if I were chakra exhausted; you were always first to offer to stay behind and delay an enemy." Gaara's arm tightened around his shoulders once more. "Then you rushed after me when I was abducted. How could I not cherish that care?"

Kankuro smiled against his shoulder, feeling too overcome to reply.

"That's why I say that you'll be successful when you establish a family of your own," Gaara continued.

After taking a moment to collect himself, Kankuro managed to reply. "If that's true, then just apply your attitude toward our village to your wife and kids. If you're that dedicated, you'll succeed, too." He straightened so he could meet Gaara's gaze and show him the depth of his confidence in him.

"Thank you." Gaara paused, a thoughtful look stealing over his face. His gaze dropped until he was staring at Kankuro's chest. "Uncle Yashamaru once tried to explain love to me," he said, his brow furrowing. "And Naruto said that no one can be alone. You said that being a shinobi wasn't going to make you care any less about your family, and you've promised to protect me." He hesitated. "I'm . . . I'm glad you're my nii-san now."

Kankuro realized that although it didn't seem like it on the surface, he was being asked a question. "Of course I love you, ototo." Despite acting like it was obvious to all and easy to say, he felt vague terror. Every muscle fiber in his being tensed; he had never been so honest about his feelings. Probably he would never have been so open had their lives and relationship not pulled together in such an odd and bumpy way.

For a moment, Gaara seemed to stop breathing, and Kankuro realized that it was unlikely that anyone had ever said those words to him — not and meant them. Kankuro held his breath as well, suddenly terrified that he'd be rebuked like he had been as a young child when he'd tried to be affectionate toward his father or grandfather. However, that rare smile slowly bent up Gaara's lips, and he leaned forward until their foreheads touched. Kankuro met the gesture, feeling a smile tugging at his lips as well. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

"I don't know if we'll figure out more about all these things," Gaara whispered. "But as you said, I made it this far, so surely I — we — can. Either way, though, at least we figured out this much."

"Yeah." Kankuro once again wanted to laugh, but this time it was from joy. He had shown Gaara all of himself, the real him, and been accepted. Even his protection had been accepted.

It was a strange outcome to achieve from something as mundane as teaching someone to dance, but Kankuro couldn't complain.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, faved, or put this story on alert! (And a special call out to Tammy and jkl!)  
><em>

_Since most people hate OCs, I purposely didn't include any indication about the outcome of Kankuro and Hitomi's dancing, much less suggest a future trajectory for either Kankuro or Gaara. However, since I was asked about it, I will say that originally "Dances" was a series, so Gaara and Kankuro both eventually have to face their issues and work toward a solution. They don't stay stuck in this moment forever. (smile) The fact this was a series is also the reason why you don't get more information on Koto. The full story of Kankuro and Koto is actually spread over stories two and three. I tried to move some of the details back here into story one so as not to frustrate you all with unanswered questions. (I'm not going to convert the rest of the series.)_


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